


Clara and Me : Adventures in Time - Episode Two - Black Friday

by ClaraAndMeAIT



Series: Clara and Me - Adventures in Time [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Airlocks, Banter, Building Collapse, Clara Shopping, Clara with a shotgun, Clashildr, Comedy, Computers, Countdown, Diner TARDIS - Freeform, Doctor Who in jokes, Drone Attack, Escape, Fight Scenes, Future Fic, Gen, Guns, Hostage Situations, Lost Child, Monsters, Nuclear Reactors, Outer Space, Post-Episode: s09e12 Hell Bent, Queuing, Rescue, Running, Saving the World, Shooting, Shopping, Shopping Malls, TARDIS Visual Voice Interface, TARDIS rooms, Zombie attack, Zombies, crowds, everything but the kitchen sink, holograms, sonic sunglasses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-21 23:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 75
Words: 154,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6061582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraAndMeAIT/pseuds/ClaraAndMeAIT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the second episode of this series, Clara and Ashildr visit the world's first man made shopping planet 1000 years in the future, not realising they have turned up on the busiest day of the year - Black Friday. </p><p>But is everything what it first appears?</p><p>Unable to leave and the planet in lockdown for 24 hours, a mysterious stranger appears, starting a chain of events that will leave them and everyone else inside in danger.</p><p>Can Clara and Ashildr work together to fight a hoard of terrifying monsters?</p><p>(This is also available on my FanFiction.net account - same user name)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so here we go! Episode Two!
> 
> This follows on immediately after Paperchase (Episode One). 
> 
> If you haven't read the first episode, I really would encourage you to as there are quite a few references to it in here (and I'm very proud of it!) - I guess technically this is a standalone story, but I really hope to develop the characters over the course of the series.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy it :-)

Clara paced around the circular console towards the screen, she turned a few dials to set the co-ordinates and then watched Ashildr leaning against the set of controls against the outside. Clara went to move the vortex manipulator but hovered her hand short of touching it, smiling cheekily at Ashildr.

"So... rule one of the TARDIS," she said facing away, looking back towards the screen, "is very simple and very important."

"And what is that?" Ashildr said flippantly, standing up straight and taking a few steps towards Clara away from the controls.

"If I move this lever," Clara smiled and pulled the switch down, holding onto the console. The entire room shook as if it was involved in an earthquake, the strobing lights in the middle shifted up and down. Ashildr was immediately thrown off balance and landed heavily on the floor, skidding and reaching the edge of the room near the large white circles due to the shuddering. Clara moved the lever up, smiling to herself, remembering the first time she travelled with the Doctor. "Make sure you hold on."

"I hope you packed that mug," Ashildr said through gritted teeth, standing up slowly, glaring at Clara with narrow eyes. She dusted Clara's jacket off as she stalked back towards the console, annoyed.

"What mug?"

"The one proclaiming you as the 'World's Best Teacher'-"

"Maybe..." Clara said.

"-so I can break it."

Clara screwed her eyes up and shook her head, playfully annoyed.

"Have we arrived?" Ashildr asked, brushing a patch of dust off her left thigh.

"Yes," Clara answered whilst picking up the Doctor's battered guidebook for 4021 from the console. She flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for, a place called Tricadiamercato, on the bottom right on page 546. "We should be..." she paused to look at the screen, "Tuesday... 2nd March... 10.21am at the..." she tried to pronounce the word she was reading, "Trick-adi-am-er-catto." Clara moved the book sideways before holding it towards Ashildr, pointing with her finger, "how would you pronounce that?"

"Aren't you the English teacher?" Ashildr said as an aside before reading. "I'd say Tricka-di-merry-carto?"

"No, you're adding an extra letter, it's got to be Try-caddy-am-er-catto," pulling the book towards her, putting her finger below the word. "Whatever it is, it sounds like a Mexican holiday resort."

Ashildr read over Clara's shoulder. "Or maybe Trick-a-dee-a-mercarto?" she shrugged her shoulders.

"It's apparently the world's first man-made shopping planet," said Clara, reading briefly from the guidebook before putting it down. "Interesting, is that the next stage on from out-of-town shopping... out-of-planet shopping? The Doctor makes this look so much easier," said Clara, sighing. She put her hand through her hair, feeling it matted. "I need to sort this out, shame the regeneration doesn't do hair and makeup."

Clara made her way towards the shallow ramp down to the inner rooms of the TARDIS. She stopped still as a black-and-white fuzz completely covered her vision. She instinctively stepped backwards to see a blurry image of herself covered in television style white noise. It made a mechanical crackling sound as it came into focus.

"What the hell-" Clara stuttered, "is this?"

"What's the matter?" said Ashildr, bumping into the back of Clara as she stopped.

"Are you seeing this, Me?" asked Clara, pointing at the wall behind the ramp. It was an image of her wearing what appeared at first glance to be a flight attendant style outfit. The image blurred again before coming into full, clear focus. Holographic Clara was wearing a crisp white shirt, red neck scarf, a navy fitted suit jacket with matching knee length pencil skirt and black stiletto heels. Her hair was tied to one side, immaculately styled. She smiled in a way you would expect someone dressed like this to, almost forced happiness, hands crossed in front of her.

"No... seeing what? What can you see?" Ashildr moved around in front of her, passing straight through the hologram. It engulfed her like a curtain of a projected image.

"Hello and welcome to this Entry Grade TARDIS," Holographic Clara said, head slightly titled to one side. The body of the image stayed stock still, only the facial features moved as she spoke. "This is the TARDIS Voice Visual Interface. I am programmed to select the image of a person you esteem. Of several billion such images in my databanks, this one best meets the criterion." There was the smallest hint of a smile passing the hologram's lips.

"Really? Oh come on! Even this TARDIS is doing that too!" Clara sighed. "I just cannot seem to escape seeing myself in the third person, can I?" She had seen this before, when she visited Caliburn House and she rescued the Doctor from the pocket universe.

"What's happening?" said Ashildr, still looking around unable to see what Clara could. She again passed through the image unwittingly as she stood the other side of Clara. The hologram fuzzed at the edges occasionally, intermittently covered in a haze which skipped the image sideways.

"I have taken the form which-" Hologram Clara continued, tilting her head to the other side.

"Yes, I know, I know, you've taken the form which I find the most comfortable, blah, blah, blah," Clara spoke over the holograph.

"-and we have to go through a basic set up procedure."

"Apparently I need to go through an introduction to the TARDIS," said Clara, annoyed. She had the distinct feeling this would be like one of those safety demonstrations on an airplane for her. "Go on then," she said.

"The emergency exit is behind you," Hologram Clara smiled and pointed with an open hand to the main console door that lead out to the diner. Ashildr had lost interest, and was amusing herself inspecting some of the controls and flashing lights.

Clara looked round behind her, rolling her eyes. "Well, obviously, that's the only door."

"Please state your name for voice identification purposes," the head tilted left again, arms returned back in front, only the lips and eyes moving. Clara found it oddly disconcerting.

"Seriously, do we really have to do this?" replied Clara impatiently, putting her hands on her hips.

"Thank you, seriously do we really have to do this," Hologram Clara mimicked her, "is this correct or would you like to change your voice print?" She felt as if her own hologram was making fun of her.

Clara breathed in and out loudly, trying to control her temper. "I would like to change please." This process reminded her of the last time she paid her electricity bill.

"Please state your name for voice identification purposes," the hologram repeated. Clara was sure she caught sight of a sarcastic smile, as if she was goading her.

"Clara Oswald," she managed, with screwed up eyes.

"Thank you, Clara Oswald, is this correct or would you like to change your voice print?"

"Yes," Clara said through gritted teeth.

"Thank you, how would you like to be known? As Clara, Clara Oswald or by some other name?"

"What's going on?" Ashildr called from behind, moving to stand next to her, still confused as to why Clara was talking at a corridor.

"Shh," said Clara, putting a hand out to silence her. "So I can choose a nickname?" Clara raised an eyebrow.

"I will call you by whatever you wish. Maybe a childhood nickname, pet name or similar?" The Hologram smiled and then the image froze, moving only to blink.

Clara thought for a second. "Hmmm, I need something like 'The Doctor' but not," she said quietly to herself. "Can this be changed in the future?" she asked the hologram.

"It is possible to change this setting."

"Let me think for a couple of minutes." Clara turned to talk to Ashildr. "It's asking me what I want to be known as," she paused, contemplating. "Does 'The Boss' sound a little, I don't know, mafia-y?" Clara smiled.

"A little, I would say, big headed," Ashildr said, looking offended, "and who made you the boss?"

"How about 'Ma'am'?" Clara thought out loud, "No, that's what the soldiers called Bonnie. I'm not a queen, although thinking about it, I did almost become an empress to a thousand galaxies once." She half smiled.

Ashildr creased up her eyebrows, "Really?"

"Yep, but I said no... " she moved away, "I do stuff like that."

"What about 'Miss'?" Ashildr volunteered.

"Oh god no," Clara shook her head, "that's what the kids call me at school, if I never hear that word again it will be too soon. Bit too similar to Missy as well."

"How about 'Lady Clara'?" Ashildr offered.

Clara laughed out loud. "Then we would be Lady Clara and Lady Me," she regained her composure, "sounds like two Victorian call-girls. No, thank you."

"Could you not just stick with Clara for now?"

"I suppose," she said half-heartedly. "But I want a nickname, something like 'The Doctor', or 'The Master' but a bit more feminine, something that sounds intelligent, but modest, a tiny bit sexy, that doesn't sound like a prostitute, or a stripper... or a mafia boss..." she paused, "or a drug dealer."

"Let me know how you get on with that," said Ashildr sarcastically, letting out a small laugh.

"Hello TARDIS, for now you can call me Clara," she paused before saying, "and none of this whole Impossible Girl stuff anymore either, I'm like twenty-nine now, kind of getting a bit old for that, you know."

"Hello Clara," the hologram smiled widely at her. "The basic interface is now completed. Will you be travelling with any companions?"


	2. Chapter 2

Clara laughed once. "I'm not sure she would be too happy with being called that," she said in low voice as she turned to face Ashildr.

"Calling me what?" said Ashildr.

"My companion," Clara said, with a large emphasis on the first word.

"Your companion?" Ashildr snorted, "Don't make me laugh. I would reiterate my earlier point about who put you in charge."

"Shut up," said Clara, dismissively, returning her gaze to the hologram. "Yes, unless she tries to kill me." Clara stated deadpan, hands on her hips. She tilted her head, "again."

"Hey..." Ashildr protested, "I thought we sorted all of that out. And besides, I've just spent the last day trying to rescue you from your evil twin unless you've already forgotten."

"Yes you did, and you succeeded. Well done, gold star for you," Clara said in the same way she would congratulate a student for spelling a word correctly, putting a patronising hand on her shoulder.

Ashildr saw a grey fuzz appear on the ramp and was confronted with a blurry image of two figures. As it focussed she could see Clara on the left and a projection of herself, wearing the same clothes as Hologram Clara.

"I can see the image now," Ashildr said, "and yours."

"Hello and welcome to this Entry Grade TARDIS," Holographic Ashildr said, head titled to one side. "This is the TARDIS Voice Visual Interface. I am programmed to select the image of a person you esteem."

"You've met my evil Zygon twin, Bonnie, now say hello to flight attendant Clara," she pointed at her hologram with her thumb, smiling.

Ashildr paced around her hologram, the body stood still, only the eyes blinked. As she drew level with the side of the projection it disappeared, as if viewing a piece of paper edge on. "This... this is weird," said Ashildr. "I don't like it."

"I can change image if you wish?" Hologram Ashildr said.

"Yes, yes please," she nodded.

The hologram focussed out to a white and grey mottling, reappearing as the Doctor, wearing a navy suit, white shirt and a red tie.

"I have taken another form which you feel comfortable with," he said in a gruff Scottish accent, uncharacteristically smiling, "we have to go through the basic-"

"TARDIS," Clara said, closing her eyes, turning away, "I am not comfortable with this image, please display anybody, anything else other than the Doctor from now on. Please."

Ashildr's hologram fuzzed over again, coming back into focus as a familiar image.

"Oh yes," Ashildr laughed, "because what is more weird than two images of you... but three images of you."

Clara and the two holograms all turned their heads to look at Ashildr. She was now in hysterics.

"What?" said Clara, used to seeing representations of herself.

"You have got to admit that is funny," Ashildr said pointing, breathing out.

"The emergency exit is behind you," said both of the holograms in unison, pointing out their hands.

Clara and Ashildr looked at each other, pausing for a moment before bursting out laughing, almost doubling over.

"That... is hilarious, isn't it?" said Clara, putting a finger up to her eye to wipe a tear away.

"Well if you are ever stuck for another job..." Ashildr trailed off, controlling her laughter.

"Shut up!" snapped Clara, playfully derisive. "TARDIS, just one holo-whatever will suffice for now, thank you."

Ashildr's hologram disappeared into the air in a flurry of silent static. Hologram Clara snapped its head to look at Ashildr in a way that was oddly mechanical.

"Holo-Clara scares me a little bit," Ashildr said, nervously, "not going to lie."

"The real thing is much worse, trust me," Clara smirked.

"Please state your name for voice identification purposes," Holo-Clara smiled.

Clara laughed to herself, "I'll get myself a seat, this should be good," she said under her breath.

"Me," said Ashildr, narrowing her eyes at Clara.

"Thank you, Me, would you like to change your voice print?" Holo-Clara tilted her head again.

"No," Ashildr said curtly.

"Thank you, how would you like to be known? As Me or by some other name?" Holo-Clara said.

"Take your pick," said Clara, again under her breath.

"No, Me is fine," Ashildr nodded.

"Are you sure? It's a very confusing name..." Clara trailed off, knowing it was a lost cause.

"Yes, I'm sure," said Ashildr, a defiant smile covering her face.

"Hello Clara and Me," said Holo-Clara, tilting her head in the opposite direction. "Welcome to the first time set up, please follow me and you can now customise your living areas."

Holo-Clara turned around to face away walk down the ramp. Clara couldn't help but smile.

"Why did it pick an image of you?" Ashildr whispered as they followed. "A bit self obsessed, are you?"

"What? No..." Clara said, "I've seen so many versions of myself, I guess it makes it easier."

"If you say so," said Ashildr snidely.

"Although it is nice to know I also look as good from the back," she winked.

Ashildr rolled her eyes at Clara, out of her view, casting her eye towards Holo-Clara. "I've seen better," she said flatly. "What's the better word? Egomaniac or narcissist?"

"Hey, not you as well, you've only been with me like five minutes!" Clara said, offended. "I am not an egomaniac, OK?"

"Keep telling yourself that," Ashildr said with a trace of irony.

Clara let out a forced groan, folded her arms and stormed after the image of herself, leaving Ashildr behind her.

Holo-Clara turned left and walked down the corridor, where smooth white walls and grey concrete floors surrounded them. The passage seemed to go on into infinity in front and behind them. There was one door on the left that Clara had been into previously when she had found the Time Lord clothing. Holo-Clara stopped suddenly and turned around, looking at both of them in turn. Clara was beginning to find her own face unsettling, understanding what Ashildr meant earlier.

"Initial setup requires living quarters, will you be requiring joint or separate arrangements?" Holo-Clara asked, putting her hands in front of her.

"Separate," Clara answered immediately, still annoyed.

"Definitely separate," Ashildr said a moment after.


	3. Chapter 3

"Ok, Clara, if you will follow me," the hologram smiled and held out an open hand towards Clara's left, pointing at an empty white wall.

"I never had to do this with the Doctor," said Clara, "he didn't even offer me a room. I just found one." She blinked and a grey steel door appeared on her left, it opened automatically with a whoosh as the hologram approached it. Clara tentatively walked inside.

She was stood inside a small, square room with a grey concrete floor and four plain white walls. Clara estimated that it was about twelve feet wide and tall.

"Err... I am not staying in this," Clara said, crossing her arms, "unless it gets a lot more comfortable. It's a bit... basic."

"I've stayed in worse," said Ashildr looking around, staying outside peering around the door frame.

"So have I," said Clara. "Tunisia, 2009, all inclusive, group holiday," she mused, shuddered at the memory, "but the alcohol was unlimited so, you know, swings and roundabouts."

"There are some basic set ups which you can customise," Holo-Clara said.

"Show me," said Clara, arms still folded, raising her eyebrow.

As Clara blinked, the surroundings changed to a room very similar to her own bedroom, but with no personal items. It was slightly bigger with a window at the back, letting in the light. The walls were a pink colour, the carpet was a darker red. There was a triple mirror stood on a dressing table on the left hand side, with a chair in front of it, a small wardrobe behind it and a bed with a yellow upholstered headboard on the right hand side.

"Isn't this your bedroom?" said Ashildr, looking inside.

"Yes... well, sort of, not quite. It's missing something," Clara pondered. "It's weird."

"This has been approximated based on your recorded memories," Holo-Clara said, holding out both arms.

"Hmm," said Clara, "I like this but if there is a choice I would like something else," she paused to think. She considered various options.

"I can show you some various options available?" said Holo-Clara.

"No, no," Clara thought, "let me choose something." She circled around, before stopping still and turning around, grinning. "I know, how about the best suite at the... Savoy Hotel?" Clara had always wanted to go there.

"From what year?" the hologram said.

"This year, like, right now," Clara smiled, before remembering they were in the future, "umm... 2015."

"Searching TARDIS data banks," Holo-Clara said, horizontal interference appeared on the projection.

The room changed as Clara blinked. It was the most opulent room Clara had ever seen in her life.

"Displaying the Royal Suite at the Savoy Hotel."

"Oh... my... god!" Clara exclaimed. "You can really do this?!" she aimed at the hologram.

She was stood in a hallway with three doors coming off it. The hallway had wooden parquet floors, white walls and an ornamental ceiling with a crystal chandelier hanging from it.

Directly in front of her was a meeting room, which had a large window letting in a view of Central London. There was a large brown desk with two upholstered chairs to the left and a large black leather gentleman's chair to the right.

She went through the door to the right, finding large living room, leading to a bedroom and a bathroom. "Wow," said Clara as she returned to the main door.

The door on the left from the hallway went through to a large living room and then onto ten person dining area, the table adorned with fresh flowers, again with a large window. Further on there was a large bathroom, with black and white chequered floor, granite surfaces and a large hot tub.

"Oh my god!" Clara exclaimed, genuinely impressed by the grandeur.

Clara ventured further to find a large dressing room, and then a bedroom with a large four poster bed. She walked slowly back to the hallway to see Ashildr standing in the TARDIS corridor and the hologram blocking the door.

"This," Clara held her arms out and spun round, "this is perfect," she laughed. "I will have this." She walked towards the door, "except... put a little bit more turquoisey blue around, less of the flowery stuff."

The surroundings shifted hue slightly.

Clara nodded. "So I guess that's me done," she said, smiling, following Holo-Clara out of the room, into the corridor.

"Ok, Me, if you will follow me," the hologram pointed to the wall opposite and another door grey automatic door appeared, "I can set up your living quarters."

Ashildr stepped in and saw the same grey and white square room Clara had seen earlier. Clara went back off to her room to have another look around.

"We have some basic-"

"Yes, I heard you the first time," Ashildr said. "Show me some options."

"We have Viking..."

The room changed to small dark room, nailed wooden walls, hay on the floor and a small bunk bed at the end. It smelt awful, there were two large buckets in the corner.

"Absolutely not," snapped Ashildr, "next."

"Elizabethan..."

The room changed to a beige colour, two tone wallpaper around a high four poster bed. A large fireplace took up most of the right hand side wall.

"No," said Ashildr.

"Boutique Paris..."

A white room, bathed in natural light, thin iron furniture.

"No."

"Shabby Chic, twenty-first century."

"No."

"New New New York penthouse apartment?"

"No."

Holo-Clara cycled through another twenty rooms, all refused by Ashildr. Clara had returned and was watching the room change constantly like a slot machine when you pulled the handle.

"The Byzantium, the best cabin?"

"No."

"Orient Express?"

"No."

"Come on, Ashildr, pick something," said Clara, beginning to get impatient.

"How about," Ashildr mused, "something better than hers?" She pointed at Clara.

The room shifted to a large open plan room, sparkling black marble on every surface, a sixty foot window at the end displaying a starry night sky. Ashildr embarked forward into the room, looking up at the ceiling, over one hundred feet above her. There were five or six balcony levels, with many black marble staircases connecting the floors.

"I suppose this will do for now," she said deliberately flippantly. "Except put more stars in the sky and make it a little bit lighter in here."

The surroundings changed.

"I can change it, right?" Ashildr asked.

"Yes, it can be changed," said Holo-Clara.

Ashildr went back to meet Clara, who was looking open mouthed at Ashildr's room.

"That's your only requirement?" Clara narrowed her eyes. "That it is better than mine?"

"Yes," Ashildr smiled, ignoring her.

"Will dining quarters be required?" Holo-Clara asked.

"Yes, they will," Clara nodded, "but what about the diner out there?" She pointed back down the corridor.

"The exterior has only basic camouflage food and drink."

"Disappointing," Ashildr reflected.

"Then yes, a kitchen. Preferably with American Diner options available... Is a fully functioning bar too much to ask for?" Clara asked, a cheeky glint in her eye. Another door appeared six feet further down on the left of Clara's room.

"A bar is an available option-"

"Yes!" interrupted Clara, doing a mini fist pump. "Do it!"

"However, all passengers currently on board are too young to drink-" Holo-Clara started.

"What?!" Clara exclaimed. "She might be," she pointed at Ashildr, "but I certainly am not."

"-in the TARDIS. Guidelines stipulate all passengers must be a minimum of one hundred and twenty earth years old to request a facility serving alcohol." Clara could have sworn that the hologram was raising a small smile.

"So hang on," Clara said, holding her right hand in the air pacing away as she thought, "so I am too young to get a drink in here? My own TARDIS?"

"Isn't it-?" said Ashildr under her breath

"Both you and Me are too young to request a facility serving alcohol, going by visible age."

"Don't get me wrong, I am very grateful for the compliment that I look younger than," she raised her voice several notches, "one hundred and twenty years old," Clara said sarcastically, "but as the primary user I would like you to change that rule right this second."

"Please state administration password."

"Administration password," said Clara screwing up her face, folding her arms, "yeah, I don't have one."

"It would have been given to you when you undocked the TARDIS from Gallifrey."

"Oh," said Clara, resigned. The Doctor had stolen the TARDIS whilst they were in the Cloisters. "I don't have the administration password, sorry," she said dejectedly. "We're not getting a bar," she whispered to Ashildr.

"You don't say," Ashildr looked at her sideways and shook her head slightly, exhaling.

"It can be reissued on return to Gallifrey," the hologram replied.

"Yes," Clara said, "I will be sure to do that when I go next," Clara retorted sarcastically, knowing the next time she went there she would be sent to die.

"Are there any other rooms you require at present?"

"Whilst we are on the subject, can you please remove all Time Lord clothing from the dressing room? I would prefer it to be a room which can provide me with blending in clothes for my," Clara looked at Ashildr, correcting herself, "sorry, our adventures. Period clothing, fancy dress, and I mean not like the things that I, sorry, some people wear on the streets of Blackpool for hen parties, the good stuff, you know? Like you'd actually paid money to hire it."

"That can be arranged," the hologram said, still only facial features moving.

"Can I have a writing room? Somewhere to put journals of my adventures?" Ashildr asked Clara.

"Oh yes, of course, you do stories, don't you? What are you asking me for? Go ahead," Clara nodded.

"My previous journals are kept in a library somewhere..." Ashildr trailed off, "I've forgotten where, I could do with starting it up again."

"If you're planning to stick around you can have whatever you want, not a problem," Clara said, as another grey door appeared next to Ashildr's room. "I think we are done for now, thank you TARDIS."

Holo-Clara tilted her head and disappeared in a cloud of grey static fuzz.

"She really, really scares me," said Ashildr, shuddering.

"So I am going to unpack my stuff, get some sleep... hang on," she paused, "do I even need to sleep? I guess we'll find out. And then get changed... and then we can go exploring, ok?" Clara said.

"Ok I agree on the sleep," Ashildr replied, heading towards her room, "it's been a long day. How long does take you to get ready? Twenty minutes?"

Clara laughed out loud. "Try a couple of hours, I am not going out looking like this," she pointed at her face, "besides, this level of perfection takes time."

"I don't think you have that much time, even with the time machine."

"Not funny," Clara said, "now, do you fancy helping me with one of my suitcases?"

"No I do not, funnily enough," Ashildr said, disappearing into her own room. The door closed automatically behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those that want the extra detail - Clara's room has a floor plan of [this](http://www.fairmont.com/savoy-london/pdf/royal-suite/). Pictures are [here](http://www.fairmont.com/savoy-london/accommodations/suites/) if you scroll down to the bottom. :-)
> 
> I was going to do the Ritz, but this room fits with an upcoming plot line later on.

Clara sighed, shrugging her shoulders. She wandered back out through the console room to the diner, picking up one of the suitcases to drag it back loudly towards her room. She dropped it into the hallway and then went back to retrieve the other case, finding it much heavier than the first, leaving the door open. "No wonder Ashildr refused," she laughed to herself. She got to the console room door before pausing to walk back and pick up the two bottles of wine. She carried both of them in the spaces between the fingers of her left hand as she heaved the second suitcase towards her room.

She found Ashildr in the wood-panelled meeting room opposite, gazing out of the window towards the Thames.

"Where in the universe did you create this place from?" Ashildr said, gobsmacked, turning to look at her.

Clara threw down her suitcase and put the two bottles of wine on one of the tables to the left in the hallway. "Give a girl a choice on what room to have... this is apparently the Royal Suite at the Savoy Hotel. I always wanted to go there since I saw Notting Hill," Clara said.

"What's Notting Hill?" Ashildr asked.

"Hang on, you haven't seen Notting Hill?" Clara said, incredulous.

"I don't know what it is," Ashildr said. "Is it in London?"

"Technically yes, it's an area of London, but I mean the film! The film with Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts? The famous film that everyone has seen? The whole, I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her cry your eyes out moment?" Clara watched Ashildr for a reaction. "No? Nothing?"

Ashildr shook her head.

"Remind me to make you watch it, it's a classic," Clara said.

"Can I stay in here for a bit?" Ashildr walked towards the hallway. "My room is a bit, how would you say, lonely, not sure if I like it."

"Yeah make yourself at home. I already have. Would you like the guided tour?" Clara smirked.

Ashildr shook her head.

"I also apparently have a guest room," she pointed to her right. "I say room, more of an apartment really," her eyes gleamed. "Give me a hand with," she pointed at the heavier suitcase, "that suitcase into the other room and you can stay."

"I'm not your slave," said Ashildr.

"Yeah, but my last one died," she said sarcastically, "frightful business."

Clara picked up the lighter case and moved it through the lounge, through the dining room, the dressing room and finally into her bedroom. Ashildr followed her, dragging the other along the wooden floors, gasping in awe the further she went inside.

"I could get used to this you know," said Clara, once she had put down her suitcase. "Always wanted to stay in a Royal Suite, and now I can! American Diner with the Royal Suite at the Savoy inside, that is like double awesome, like awesome squared. Love it!" Clara watched Ashildr throw down the heavy suitcase and then disappeared past the dressing room towards the bathroom.

"So where is this place you've taken us?" shouted Ashildr to the next room, she followed Clara and laughed at the opulence in the bedroom.

"Not sure, apparently a whole planet full of shops, sounds like my sort of planet..." the voice started loudly and then trailed off. "Go and get the guidebook, read about it and then give me the highlights," Clara shouted from the bathroom.

Ashildr rolled her eyes and walked out of the bedroom, past the dressing room on her right and saw Clara having a look around the bathroom. She slowly went past the dining room and the lounge and out into the TARDIS corridor. The harsh clinical white and grey colours initially hurt her eyes. She picked up the guidebook from the console room and felt a wave of curiosity possess her.

She ventured out into the diner, shrouded in darkness, long shadows cast by a bright sun in the distance. She gazed through the window, past some scrawled backwards writing she was unable to make out and saw twinkling stars in the distance.

There was a large amount of chalky grey rubble reaching halfway up the door, a large number of yellow signs surrounded the front of the TARDIS windows. The yellow boards were marked with black lettering that she couldn't make out. As she approached the glass she could hear a faint noise, curious she put her ear on the cool pane and recognised it as the ringing of a loud siren in the distance. It did not look like a place they should even be in, let alone a shopping planet. She didn't want to open the doors, instead returned slowly to Clara's room.

Ashildr settled herself on the plush pastel turquoise sofa in the lounge, putting her feet up onto the dark wood coffee table and crossing them. She needed to change her boots, she could see her skin poking through the many gunshot holes.

"I just had a quick look outside," Ashildr shouted towards the dining room, hoping Clara would hear her in the bathroom. "Either you've got it wrong or there is something very unfriendly going on out there."

"Sorry, were you talking?" Clara poked her head around the doorframe in the same way she had done in her own flat. "I didn't hear you as I was too busy looking at the hot tub I now apparently own, this place... this place is amazing!" she gushed.

"I was saying," Ashildr repeated, "doesn't look very consumer friendly outside, I think you may have got the time wrong."

"Highly unlikely," Clara pointed out, unable to comprehend she could have possibly made a mistake, "I told you, read the book and then give me the edited highlights." She disappeared again. "Oh my god, this is amazing!" she exclaimed in the distance.

Ashildr heard the shower start in the background, knowing Clara would probably be gone for some time. She went to the index of the book, searching for the name they had been unable to pronounce. "Trikka-something," she said to herself, trailing her finger along the various pages until she found it. "Tricka-dia-mercarto," she said, tapping on the page. She turned to page 546 and saw a large picture of a stadium shaped planet surrounded by a glass. There were inset pictures of boulevards and people enjoying drinks. She read the paragraph at the bottom right of the page.

TRICADIAMERCATO

The universe's first twenty four hour man-made shopping planet was opened in 2850 to large fanfare. It was conceived by the owners of the galaxy's three largest shopping centres, after finding their footfall numbers were dwindling once light speed delivery was launched. Designed by Charles Dalstram II, it took 150 years to build, with over 5,000,000 people employed on the site. It was designed to be expanded from the middle, limiting the disruption to the inside.

Ashildr turned the page.

The concept was designed to be a destination where you could buy anything, meet with friends and enjoy a renaissance shopping experience. Today the area exists as a memorial to the 765,213,438 people who were killed when a bomb was set off inside during the 32th Century, making it one of the worst disasters of the modern age. The nuclear matter is still exploding, and will continue to burn as a bright sun for at least the next 10,000 years. There are nearby space stations which have been converted into large viewing platforms. Ensure your transportation has at least level 210 radioactive shielding before planning a visit. Highlights at the expansive visitor centre include the witness testimonies of some of the 23 people who escaped, relative interviews and an interactive timeline of the disaster itself.

"Oh," said Ashildr, realising what she had seen outside. "Looks like we won't be doing much shopping today."

Ashildr leafed through a few of the other pages, before throwing the book heavily onto the coffee table in front of her, knocking over an ornament. She stood up and looked down at her clothes, ripped to shreds, realising she should try and follow Clara's example of getting changed before heading out of the TARDIS. She wandered off in the direction of her own room, finding the small empty square grey room, not the gleaming black marble palace she had left half an hour ago.

"OK, TARDIS," Ashildr called out to the ceiling loudly, distinctly unimpressed, "what have you done with my room?"


	5. Chapter 5

She turned her head around to see Holo-Clara blocking the door, standing with her hands on her hips, and head tilted to the right. The image fuzzed intermittently.

"What do you want now?" Ashildr snapped.

"This room has been removed," she said, smiling. "The TARDIS is programmed to protect the main user."

"Right... so what does that have to do with my room?"

"TARDIS databanks have identified you as a risk to the main user," Holo-Clara flashed an evil smile.

Ashildr sighed. "We... I mean, me and real Clara have resolved that issue. My hands were tied."

"TARDIS databanks show you have caused the main user a large amount of emotional trauma."

"Who hasn't had that?" she said, slightly under her breath. "Try billions of years worth of watching everybody you know die, I've been through more than most. All caused by the man that she's having," she mimicked Holo-Clara, "a large amount of emotional trauma" she returned to her own voice, "over."

"TARDIS databanks have identified you as a risk to the main user with the potential to cause her a large amount of emotional trauma," Holo-Clara repeated, not smiling this time.

"You don't like me?" she folded her arms, turning away. "That's up to you. I'm not going anywhere."

Holo-Clara appeared in front of her, folding her arms, mirroring her movements. "The TARDIS will provide you with requested living quarters once it is satisfied you will cause no harm to the main user."

"And until then?" Ashildr asked. "What am I supposed to do?"

"The TARDIS has approximated a living quarters based on your personal-" Holo-Clara held out an open hand

"Don't you even dare!" scolded Ashildr, interrupting, knowing what that meant.

The Viking room appeared around her, a dark wooden shed, hay on the floor. Ashildr felt violently nauseous at the smell emitting from every surface. She could feel wet cold mud through the holes on her shoes. The small wooden cot had no bedding. There were occasional drips of water coming from the pointed ceiling.

"-history. Goodbye." Holo-Clara returned her hands in front of her, raised an eyebrow tilting her head to the left and then disappeared in the blink of an eye. Ashildr decided at this moment she did not like Holo-Clara. She stormed from the room, letting the door close softly behind her. She went to go to Clara's room, to find the door firmly shut, she banged on it with her fist several times before resignedly banging her head on the door.

"Come on, let me in," Ashildr pleaded, aiming her head to the white ceiling, "all I want is a hot shower and a change of clothes. That's it." She tried all the other doors and found them shut. Ashildr slunk down to sit with her back against the wall, she banged on Clara's door loudly intermittently with her fist. There was a trail of muddy footprints on the floor leading from her room.

The door opened after twenty minutes, with Clara on the other side in a white fluffy dressing gown. "What are you doing out there?" she said looking down, towel drying her hair.

"I don't think the TARDIS likes me," said Ashildr getting up, brushing the dust off her.

"Why do you say that? Didn't seem like that to me."

"Can I borrow some clothes and have a shower?" Ashildr said. "The TARDIS has replaced my room with a Viking shed."

"What?!" said Clara laughing, slinging the towel over her right shoulder.

Ashildr pointed down at her footprints. "I told you, it doesn't like me. I have a feeling if I could actually get into the dressing room I'll end up only having a choice of the back of a pantomime horse, a clown or a monk or something."

"It's OK, she's probably just getting used to you," Clara said.

"The TARDIS is a she?"

"Not something I considered for this one," Clara looked away, "yes, she definitely seems like a she. Don't you call all ships and boats, all of that, she?"

"Ok, well, she... hates me," Ashildr smiled weakly.

"Good job we are going shopping," Clara smiled.

"Oh yeah, about that..."

"Let me sort you out with some clothes then," Clara said, sniggering, leaving the room. "Stay there, no mud in my place, thanks!" she shouted from the dressing room. Ashildr removed her shoes, the wooden floor cold on her feet. Clara returned with a small pile of clothing, passed it over and pointed her in the direction of the door on her right. "Go through there, bedroom, bathroom, etc." Clara went back, still laughing.

Ashildr sighed, dropping her head, and walked off to get changed. She found the bathroom, put down the clothes and set the taps running. Nothing happened. She tried the taps the other way, still nothing.

"Oh come on," Ashildr shouted upwards, "I'm sorry, not quite sure what for, but I'm sorry, OK?"

The taps spluttered to life, choking out a disgusting green and black liquid.

"I pose no risk to Clara, OK? I am not going to hurt her," Ashildr said.

The water coming from the taps turned clear, it was cold.

"I don't know what you want me to say, but I am no risk to Clara," Ashildr paused, "I promise I'll protect her?"

Steam began to come from the water. Ashildr smiled, not wishing to push her luck any further.

"Thank you," she nodded.

Ashildr emerged from the shower and went to change in the bedroom. She sat on a padded chair, intending just to close her eyes, but ended up drifting off into a shallow sleep.

She woke up with a start, no idea how long she'd been there. She stretched as she got up and changed, emerging out to the lounge area, feeling much better. She looked at herself in a nearby mirror, seeing a red checked shirt, black jeans and high heeled black trainers, and a dark blue rain jacket reflected. "Thank you TARDIS, now I look like her." The lights flickered slightly as a response. She walked with some difficulty into the lounge area, the shoes a size too big.

"I fell asleep in the other room," she yawned, stretching out. "Have you finished yet?" Ashildr shouted. "And how do you walk in these things?"

"Yes, almost, I'm still unpacking," Clara replied. "I had the added complication of having to dress myself different to you," she emerged into the lounge wearing an above knee length dark green fitted dress with a black collar, black tights and ankle boots. She pulled on a leather jacket, picking at her hair. "Give it a few hours, you'll be running around just like me. Oh, you look absolutely adorable," she laughed at Ashildr, patronisingly grabbing her cheek. They were now roughly the same height due to the shoes. "Does this outfit say that word I haven't quite figured out yet, like the Doctor, but not?" she held out her hands, spinning around.

Ashildr decided Clara appeared like she had dressed as an action figure of herself, but elected to keep that quiet. "Are you ready?" she said, not answering the question.

"Yes. Let's go!" she pointed with both fingers towards the door with a lot of enthusiasm.

"Can you say that in any way that does not make it sound like a school trip?"

Clara narrowed her eyes at Ashildr, shaking her head and then strolled off towards the console room.

"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you," Ashildr shouted down the corridor. "I think the shopping centre is closed for business today."


	6. Chapter 6

"Why's that?" said Clara, walking through to the diner, not turning around. "The guidebook said it was twenty four hours?"

"See that big burning thing outside," Ashildr managed as she caught up with Clara, "that's it. Don't open the door!" she said as Clara had her hand on the handle.

"What happened?" Clara asked, light reflecting on her face as she looked out.

"Some sort of nuclear bomb apparently, killed everyone inside."

The grey dust was at a higher level than earlier, the yellow signs were just about visible.

"Those signs say this whole area is highly radioactive," Clara said, before screwing up her face, confused, "and that the visitor centre and gift shop is on the next platform."

"You can read that?" Ashildr said.

"Yeah," Clara said, continuing to look out of the window, "the TARDIS has this thing that translates every language for me, only works after you've been exposed to it a while. I was on a submarine when it started working for me, I managed tell a man obsessed with Duran Duran that I'd only sung Hungry Like The Wolf at hen parties and karaoke. In Russian. In the eighties." She raised a smile, her face half illuminated by the burning light outside.

"Right," said Ashildr dismissively, "so what do we do now? Go to the gift shop?"

"Have you forgotten? We've got a time machine! We never have to go to the gift shop!" Clara said, her eyes twinkling. "So, when did all this happen?" Clara asked.

"The guidebook said," Ashildr aimed her eyes upwards, thinking, "3200 or something."

"Ok, so let's go visit, before all of that happens," Clara paced through the diner, back towards the console room, her shadow looming long in front of her.

"Are we not going to fix it?" Ashildr asked, running to catch her up.

"That is not what we, sorry, I do," Clara said, shaking her head. The console room door closed automatically once Ashildr had come in. "Just got my time machine, don't quite know the rules yet, can't go around just changing time."

"But-" Ashildr interjected.

"But nothing," Clara talked over her, "however, if something starts occurring whilst we are there, then... that's different." Her eyes twinkled in the white lights as she walked to the other side of the console from Ashildr.

"Is that likely?" Ashildr asked, following her around.

"What? That we walk unwittingly into the middle of some catastrophe or other and then end up saving all the people?"

Ashildr raised an eyebrow, facing her from the other side of the console, leaning out to look at her. "Yes."

"Nope, never happened," Clara said deadpan. She twisted a few of the dials and then stopped in front of the vortex manipulator, pulling it. Ashildr just about managed to hold onto one of the metal bars surrounding the white console. She gazed up to see the lights flash briefly and then subside. Clara reset the switch.

"Ok, so, let's try this again," Clara said, her eyes glittering. "It is Thursday 24th November 3138," she strode confidently towards the console door, "it is 7.21pm on... Tricka... whatever." She sighed. "And it was going so well... It also would have been my birthday yesterday, I'd have been," she paused, calculating on her hands, "1152." She laughed.

"May I say, you are looking excellent for your age," Ashildr laughed followed her into the diner, now illuminated with a bright white light through the windows. "Not quite as good as me though..."

"Ok, so, we need to, like, you know, tool up, as my kids would say. Is that the phrase?" she pondered.

"Tool up?"

"Yeah, you know, arm ourselves," she said. "Where are the sunglasses?"

Ashildr picked them up off the seat of the red booth where Clara regenerated earlier. "Here."

"Thank you," said Clara, "I really feel we need something a little more... feminine as a sonic device, don't you?" Clara moved the sunglasses on her hands. "I like these, I really do, but the Doctor had a screwdriver, I need..."

"A sonic lipstick?" Ashildr offered up.

"No... Do I look like the sort of girl that carries lipstick around? Actually don't-"

"Because you're wearing it all already?" Ashildr interjected, laughing.

"-answer that. Thank you." Clara ignored her. "No, I need some sort of keyring or pen or something. And a little pocket in my coat to put it in." She moved the left hand side of her jacket away from her. "Actually, maybe not, he was right, it does spoil the line of the jacket."

"Who has made you the Doctor?" Ashildr asked.

"Because if it was up to you we'd probably have some sort of, I don't know... sonic sledgehammer, wouldn't we?"

"That sounds like an excellent idea, in fairness." Ashildr curled her lip.

"Alright, Thor," Clara said, "do you have a phone?"

"A phone?" Ashildr creased her eyebrows, confused.

"A mobile phone?" Clara said, "In case we get separated."

Ashildr shook her head. "Although I am perfectly capable of looking after myself."

"It comes in useful, trust me. Where did I put mine?" Clara patted herself down before she brought her right index finger to her lip. "Where did I put my death outfit?" She went back into the console room, reappearing a minute later with the small white phone. "TARDIS, are you able to duplicate this phone?" she asked upwards. "So that my," she looked at Ashildr, "companion can contact me if she gets lost." Ashildr rolled her eyes.

The central console made a loud ding in the other room, like a microwave did when it finished cooking something. Clara strolled over and retrieved a small black handset, identical to hers. She laughed, turning it over in her hands, walking back over to the diner. "Cool," she said, programming her number into it, ringing to get the number for the new phone. "Now if we get separated we can at least find each other." She passed it to Ashildr.

Ashildr took the phone and immediately dropped it on the chequered diner floor, it clattered lightly. "Oh my god that is hot!" She clasped her left hand around her right, shaking it out as it healed.

"Oh yeah, I forgot, I can't tell these days. Also, not quite sure how mobile phone insurance works out here, so be careful, and please don't submerse it in water."

"We're going to a shopping centre, how will I end up submersing myself in water?" Ashildr asked, as if Clara had asked her a stupid question.

"I don't know, maybe the same way that I ended up parachuting off a crane and landing in a pond when I visited my flat," she said flatly. "Rule number two of the TARDIS," she pointed her finger up to the ceiling, "expect the unexpected."

"Should I be writing these down?" Ashildr said, sarcastically.

"No, but maybe I should..." Clara smiled. "Right so, sunglasses, psychic paper," she picked it off the counter and put it into the front right pocket of her jacket with the sunglasses, "phone... and keys." Clara felt into her front left pocket.

Ashildr picked up the phone off the floor, now just tepid enough to touch, she put it into the front left pocket of her trousers. It still felt warm through the material.

"Looks like we are all set," Clara said, patting her pockets. "Ready to explore our first planet together?"

"Yes I am," Ashildr.

"Let's go then!" Clara said, pointing to the front door in her earlier emphatic style.

"You're doing it again," Ashildr said under her breath, looking away.

Clara swooped over towards the glass put her hand on the metal handle of the door. She scanned the outside. "Looks safe enough." Clara opened the door and allowed Ashildr to step out first onto a grey polished concrete floor.

"It looks," Ashildr said, distinctly unimpressed, "like a car park."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's your lot for now!
> 
> Please think of up to this point as a before the credits sequence. :-)
> 
> I will upload the rest once I've completed the whole story so that I don't have to heavily edit the chapters when I change things, from this point on will be the main bulk of the story.
> 
> 13/04/2016 - I am currently at 21 Chapters, 34,500 words in, I'm about half way through.


	7. Chapter 7

Clara jumped out and closed the door behind her. "Yeah, my first go was much more impressive," she sighed, a cheeky smile covering her face.

They were in a vast expanse of white and grey that went on for as long as the eye could see in every direction. The floor was polished grey concrete, it squeaked softly under Ashildr's trainers as she moved. Hundreds of white oblong boxes were painted onto the ground. There were white pillars every fifty meters or so, supporting a ceiling thirty feet above them.

"You need to work on your parking," laughed Ashildr, noticing the TARDIS parked diagonally across six parking spaces.

"Yeah," Clara dismissed her.

There were many different vehicles around them. Clara could see cars, bikes, hovercrafts, small aircraft and even something that looked like a yacht.

Ashildr stepped away from the TARDIS to take stock of her surroundings, Clara followed her.

A sudden blaring horn made them both jump, they were confronted by a twelve foot wide black vehicle which screeched to a halt inches away on their left side. The driver, obscured by a curved black glass windscreen, shouted loudly from inside.

"Get out of the way!" said a booming male mechanical voice.

Clara stepped away first, holding up both her hands as an apology. Ashildr followed a few seconds after, after stopping to glare through the window.

The vehicle started up again, passing in front, it had the appearance of an oversized American Cadillac, about forty feet long but without the wheels, floating three feet off the ground. It sped off into the distance, quickly.

Clara noticed some shimmering red arrows on the floor pointing to the left she hadn't seen previously. The arrow travelled along the surface, followed up by a set of bare footprints.

"Looks like we need to go this way," Clara pointed in the direction it was indicating. She unconsciously zipped up her jacket, put her hands in the pockets and began walking. Ashildr folded her arms and begrudgingly followed behind.

They followed the red arrows in a straight line for several minutes before the arrows turned left towards a large white door. There was an interactive panel with a smiling face sat to the right. An image of a young blonde woman smiled out at them.

"Finally, someone who isn't you," Ashildr whispered as they approached it.

"Shut up," Clara said, accidentally hitting Ashildr on the stomach with her right hand as she drew level.

The image blinked to life. "Hello, and welcome to Tricadiamercato," the image said in a non-descript accent.

"Ohh," said Clara, "that's how you pronounce it. Try-kay-dia-mer-carto. Like shopping arcade. And mercarto... Sounds Latin. Sounds like a Latin word for market or shop or something. Tricadiamercato, that's where we are," she said triumphantly.

"You are in parking zone 32 slash 5 slash 3 slash 412," the video image continued, "please describe your vehicle or state its registration."

"Umm," Clara said, starting to say something but then stopped herself. "An... American Diner."

The image of the woman was replaced by a CCTV style image of the TARDIS, badly parked over the lines.

"Is this your vehicle?" the female voice said.

"Yes," said Clara, slightly embarrassed.

"Great! Thank you. Please insert your hand into the space below to receive your tag." There was a video showing what to do on the screen.

Clara saw the vertical letter box size hole, and lined her right hand up as instructed above before pausing.

"What do they mean by tag?" Clara said to Ashildr. "A wristband maybe?"

"I don't know," Ashildr shrugged.

Clara tentatively put her hand into the slot and felt something clamp tightly around her wrist, she tried to move but was unable to.

"Please remain still," the female voice said.

"The machine's trapped me, Ashildr!" Clara said, putting her left foot flat onto the wall below the panel and grabbing her right wrist with her left hand, as she tried to pull herself free.

"Please remain still," the female voice said.

Clara felt an intense sharp pain on the top of her right hand, as if she was being stabbed by hundreds of needles. "Oh my god, it's like it's injecting me or something, get me out! Me!"

"Please remain still."

Ashildr tried to help pull Clara's hand free, not getting anywhere. Clara's hand burnt with pain, enough to bring tears to her eyes, when the panel hissed and released its grip.

"Ow!" yelped Clara, rubbing the back of her hand, "ow!" She looked down at it to see there was a large black square dotted barcode covering her entire hand. It reminded Clara of a code you could scan with your mobile phone to take you to a website, but bigger and much more intricate. "What the hell is this?" she said loudly, holding her hand up to Ashildr.

"It looks like a tattoo," said Ashildr.

"I can see that," Clara snapped sarcastically, shaking her hand out to relieve the pain.

"Your tag is now complete. Thank you. Complementary anaesthetic wipes are available."

"Now you're offering me an anaesthetic?" said Clara, annoyed. "Yes, I'll have one." A small white paper rolled out from the machine. Clara pinched it between her fingers and wiped it on the back of her hand, it dissolved into a cream which made her skin go numb. She rubbed it in completely until it was all absorbed.

"The next member of your party, please insert your hand."

Ashildr put her right hand into the machine, held it still and then pulled it out several seconds later.

"Didn't hurt," said Ashildr, inspecting the tattoo closely, "but watch this." She held up the back of her hand to Clara, the tattoo disappeared thirty seconds afterwards.

"Seriously?" Clara said. "How are you doing that?"

"Turns out if you're immortal, tattoos don't stick. Sees it as an imperfection," sighed Ashildr. "And I have had some very questionable ones in my time," she smirked to herself.

"What about that Quantum thingy," Clara indicated towards her neck, "that I saw you with?"

"Thank you," the video image of the woman reappeared. "Your tag is used to help you and your purchases return safely to your vehicle. It will be removed once all payments have been settled. Your transportation has arrived. Have a nice day! Thank you for visiting Tricadiamercato."

"That was different," Ashildr said.

"OK, well I'll just add this," she pointed to her right hand, "to my increasing list of rubbish tattoos, appears I'm getting quite the collection now... if I keep on going at this rate I'm going to give that guy from Prison Break a run for his money," Clara said.

"Who?" Ashildr asked.

"Oh he tattooed blueprints of how to escape a prison all over him... oh, never mind."

The white door opened vertically in front of them, displaying a clear glass round edged cube, five foot on each edge, with four plastic white seats inside that were bolted to the bottom surface on a black metal frame. In between the four seats was what appeared to be some sort of table with an interactive screen on the upper surface. A panel on the side nearest them opened magically upwards, inviting them in. Clara clambered inside and took the furthest seat on the left, her boots making a hollow sound on the glass below. Ashildr sat directly opposite.

"Please scan your tag," a mechanical voice surrounded them. A small black stick appeared vertically out from the table, folding over twice and emitting a laser red light. It reminded Clara of the pink desk light she had by her flat window. She held her hand under the scanner, nervously looking at Ashildr. It finished scanning her and then the stick dissolved into the table, not to be seen.

"Fastening seatbelts," the voice boomed from the floor. A solid white bar appeared from the right of Clara's hips and went around her to her left, once on it tightened with a metallic clanking noise. The panel they had entered through closed, sealing with a hiss. The edges of the panel glowed red, and then disappeared leaving no trace of it ever existing. Clara knocked the nearest edge to her with her knuckle, hearing it resonate around them.

"Hope you're not claustrophobic," smirked Clara.

"Preparing for transportation to main entrance, please hold on," the mechanical voice prompted.

"Hold on?" said Ashildr, twisting her head around to see nothing obvious as an anchor. "Hold on to what?"

The pod moved sideways to Clara's left, Ashildr's right, as if on a clunking conveyor belt. The noise was faint, muffled by the glass.

"This doesn't look too bad," said Clara.

"I'm not so sure," said Ashildr, noticing there was an unlit area to her right.

The shadows slowly covered the entire pod, leaving the car park a disappearing sphere of light to Clara's right. The only source of illumination came from the top of the table, by omission as it was a black screen. She could just about see Ashildr uplit opposite her.

The pod stopped moving.

"What's happening?" said Ashildr.

"I don't know..." said Clara as it shifted heavily.

It was about five seconds before they realised the pod was being pushed upwards, and fast. Clara's feet were planted onto the glass floor, and she felt like her body was becoming part of the molecular structure of the seat she was sat on. Her insides felt like they were melting into the floor.

"Argh!" Ashildr managed to force out before her gritting her teeth and screaming loudly, a sudden intense wave of nausea rising up her throat as quickly as they were travelling.

After thirty seconds of this, they hit something solid above with a sinister hollow tap which stopped them immediately, throwing their heads back with a large amount of force. Clara looked up to see another identical pod above them, four pairs of footprints hovering on the glass.

"Everyone alright?" Clara asked, breathless.

Ashildr nodded, her right fist balled up in front of her mouth.

"For first time visitors, we recommend the introductory tour and the slow lane, please indicate yes if you would prefer this option," the mechanical voice asked, the screen now illuminating the pod in a soft white glow.

"Yes," they both said loudly without hesitation.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to start posting links on the next chapter (to keep everything spoiler free!) to where I am getting my ideas from for some of the settings in this fic, I am not going to detail in case you don't want to know but...
> 
> If you want to know the rough idea I had in my head for the pods, it's [this](http://www.jiraskovodivadlo.cz/assets/Image.ashx?id_org=200153&id_obrazky=1752) but rounded squares :-)

Another pod clunked underneath them, Ashildr peered down to see three small children gazing back up at her.

"Thank you," the pod said. "The introductory tour will begin momentarily." There were bright white lights appearing above them, slowly lowering until they were level with the pod.

"My god you're pale," said Clara, notice Ashildr's ghostly white face, "are you sure you're alright?"

The colour returned to Ashildr's face before Clara's eyes. "Yes, just felt a little travel sick."

The pod above moved away from them, scraping like two porcelain tiles rubbing together. It lifted up to slowly reveal a vast expanse of white metal and shimmering glazing that was undeniably spectacularly impressive.

"Wow," said Clara, genuinely dumbstruck, gazing out, putting her left hand onto the smooth glass. "Would you look at that?" Their pod raised until hit a clear surface above them, and then with a small whoosh they were moving again, this time Clara was moving backwards, thankfully much slower than they had been.

Above her was black sky, twinkling with white stars, visible clearly through the glass and the tube. To her left she could see the shopping planet, like the picture she had seen in the guidebook. The shape reminded her of an elongated paracetemol tablet, covered in a skin of shimmering reflective glass and white threads. There were hundreds of clear tubes coming off the structure, meticulously placed and identically spaced out. It gave the impression of something caught in a mathematically perfect spider's web. They were in a tube that was as high up as was possible to be, as if they were moving around the back row of an athletics stadium.

"How curious!" said Ashildr. "I have never seen anything like this, at least I don't think I have, although come to think of it, it does remind me of something I saw once." Ashildr found herself comparing the structure to a wad of bandages wrapped in white barbed wire, surrounded by a fence.

Clara saw a large black cylindrical building pass below them, noticing another forty or fifty similar structures around the perimeter of the area, connected by tubes to the centre itself. A faint stream of vehicles was travelling towards the cylinders, like an invisible motorway.

"That must be where we've just come from," said Clara. She could see pods exactly like the one they were in rushing past in every direction. "How cool is this?" she smiled back at Ashildr.

A small hologram appeared out of the table. It was a white man, clean shaven with neatly spiked brown hair. He wore a black suit, a white shirt and a red tie, rising up about one foot tall from the table, standing with his hands out.

"Welcome to Tricadiamercato," he spoke with a soft American accent, as the name of the centre appeared above him in the shape of a rainbow in block red lettering.

"It's a tiny man!" exclaimed Clara, pointing. "How adorable!"

"Informally known as TCM, we have been open around the clock since Monday 9th May 2850. This is the only man made shopping planet in the universe." He smiled widely. "The length of the main arcade is one thousand miles, or just over sixteen hundred kilometres and growing-"

"Beats Blackpool High Street," mused Clara.

"-each year another section is added in the middle, leading to its distinctive shape, often likened to a tablet, a Greek hippodrome or a Roman circus."

"That's exactly what it looks like," nodded Ashildr, pointing and smiling, now able to remember what she was thinking of, "yes."

"Oh yeah," said Clara, "like for the chariot races?"

"We are currently travelling at five times the speed of sound in order to complete our tour. And for you science buffs out there," the man said as an aside, smiling, "yes, that's three thousand eight hundred and forty miles per hour or six thousand one hundred and eighty kilometres per hour." The man took a couple of paces forward and pointed out the window. "We are now approaching one of the ends of the TCM which has a diameter of fifty miles," he said as they began to turn slightly, "this end has multiple viewing platforms, bars, restaurants and socialising areas. They also include the universe's only vertical one hundred and eighty degree travelators, a very popular tourist attraction, especially at weekends." He paused, smiling. "The artificial gravity inside is powered by two nuclear reactors-"

"Two nuclear reactors?" said Ashildr, her ears pricking up.

"-keeping the planet spinning at a constant four hundred miles per hour or six hundred-"

"I really wish they would pick a numeric system and just stick with it," Clara grumbled.

"-per hour. You may also notice that all the surrounding transportation areas are black, can you guess that reason for this?" the man held out his hands as if a teacher expecting an answer.

Clara and Ashildr looked at each other, nonplussed.

"That's right," the man pointed, "to blend in with the surroundings. They are coated in a camouflaging material which displays the starry sky behind them, the views from the ends and the promenades are second to none. Trust me," he winked at them.

"Oh yeah," said Clara, noticing, "I see it now!"

"The tube you are currently travelling in is constructed of reinforced glastic-"

"Glastic!" Clara smiled, the English teacher in her laughed at the blend of words. It reminded her of the word spork.

"-pipes, this tube alone takes an hour to travel around. It would take just under a year to travel through all the tubes in the TCM. They work on a vacuum system, pushing pods like the one you're in around all day, every day. There are 25,000 pods in the system at any one time, it is the only way in and out of the centre."

"Helpful," said Ashildr sarcastically.

"There is a forcefield around the whole complex, which is why everyone visiting has to enter through one of the transportation areas." He paced around again. "The TCM is also the only man-made structure which has its own currency, Tricadia Credits, or TCCs for short. When you enter you will be asked to scan your tag and your fingerprints, and then you can load currency onto it. Your hand acts as a payment card, globe or access code."

"So my hand is now like a contactless card?" Clara said, holding it up to her eyes.

"Guess that means dinner is on you today," smirked Ashildr.

"We are now approaching the main entrance of the centre, what you can see in front of you is actually the bottom floor, the next access tube will take you to the main entrance, on the upper side of the TCM. We hope you have enjoyed your introductory tour, look out for the information points, and remember our motto."

"Motto?" Clara said. "They have a motto? A shopping centre has a motto?"

"Redimo ergo sum," said the man. Clara laughed to herself.

"What does that mean?" asked Ashildr, hearing confusing words.

"It's Latin, it means I buy therefore I am," Clara smiled.

"And since when have you been fluent in Latin?"

"I'm not, it's the TARDIS, it's in my head, translates," Clara nodded. "And I'm an English teacher. Picked up a bit of Latin on the way," she said smugly.

The small man waved goodbye and then disappeared, melting into the table.

The pod stopped suddenly, hitting a glass panel, and then began to move inwards. A piece of glass swooshed shut where they had just come from, as another pod rushed past.

Clara turned to her left, seeing a long tunnel below them. "This," she looked worriedly at Ashildr, "does not look like it's going to be very nice."

"Please hold on," the mechanical voice.

"I do not like this," said Ashildr closing her eyes tightly.

The pod began moving down slowly at first and then impossibly fast. Clara felt all of her internal organs shifting towards the ceiling, it was all she could do to not be sick. The TARDIS keys worked their way out of her pocket, making a resounding tap above her. She scrabbled her hands around unable to find anything to hold on to. Ashildr let out a loud shout as the pod careered down the tube.


	9. Chapter 9

"Has it stopped?" said Ashildr, eyes still firmly closed. The keys fell on the floor with a clinking rattle.

"Yes," said Clara opening her eyes one by one to see they were again in complete darkness, a dull black light emitting from the screen on the table. "I think so."

Ashildr looked around. She could see a disc of light approaching from her right.

"I am never, ever... ever, going to complain about the Tube again," said Clara, feeling out of breath.

They were on a conveyor belt moving towards the white clinical light. There were two pods in front of theirs, another rested behind, tapping with the now familiar clunk.

The pod was bathed in bright white lights as they became the first in the queue. A bright red line appeared on the pod's surface about a foot from Clara's face, as if it were being cut out by a laser. A square shape appeared and the hatch opened upwards.

"Unfastening seatbelts," the mechanical voice boomed out. The bar released with a metallic clank and then disappeared back into the seat.

"Thank god for that," said Ashildr, forcing her way past Clara to exit the pod first, trainers squeaking on the glass below her. She stood on the grey platform doubled over, unsteady on her feet due to the travelling and the uncomfortable shoes. Clara picked up her keys from the floor, noticing there were now two TARDIS keys attached and walked out onto the platform. She felt mildly dizzy once upright as she put the keys into her left pocket with her phone. The pod moved silently out of view as the next one lined up.

"Welcome to Tricadiamercato," a voice boomed from a little further down the corridor.

Clara, having recovered from her dizzy spell, breezed past Ashildr away from the platform, turning left and then right into a space that had hundreds of white single file barriers. It was the largest indoor space she had ever seen.

Ashildr caught up with her, looking around, before stopping still. "Woah."

"Yeah, woah. And this is just the entrance!" Clara exclaimed.

The floor was highly polished black and dark red chequered marble which had a diamond like twinkle everywhere she looked. The white ceiling was at least two hundred feet above them, peppered with twinkling lights and several hundred large crystal chandeliers. The space above the barriers was displaying a semi translucent projection of a large banner that said 'This way to Tricadiamercato. Have a nice day!' with large red arrows pointing in the direction the queues were heading, this continued all the way down. She estimated each letter was fifty feet high. Clara couldn't see the left edge of the room, the right side was about two hundred metres away from them. Everywhere she looked there were people, hundreds of people, scurrying around towards the barriers. There were oak wooden panels at the far end, no indication of what was behind.

"Shall we?" said Clara, "Probably best we stick in the same barrier, wouldn't want to lose you this early on."

Ashildr couldn't help but agree with her, "OK."

Clara strode towards the white barriers, selecting number 347, indicated by sparkling lettering in the floor. The poles were connected by red velvet ropes, the sort that would be outside a nightclub. It was at least a two minute walk to the wooden panels. There were five people ahead of them at the end, at least one hundred people in her eye line around her.

Clara looked ahead and saw a black woman wearing a yellow prom dress entered carrying a co-ordinated yellow clutch bag approach the wooden panelling. It swooped open like an automatic version of an old fashioned train carriage door. The woman walked inside the pitch black room and the door closed softly behind her. After thirty seconds the door opened and a grey haired man in a beige trench coat with a large brown briefcase went inside, the door shut again. Clara shuffled up to make up the space, noticing more people around her and behind her.

"What do you think this is?" said Clara turning back to Ashildr, folding her arms.

"I don't know," Ashildr thought, "security maybe?"

A thin blonde man wearing a purple suit holding a silver briefcase entered the room, leaving two people in front.

"I'll meet you on the other side, OK?" Clara instructed, "if something happens, call me." A boy of no older than ten went inside, pushed forward by a woman in a white suit, presumably his mother, directly in front of Clara.

"Right," said Ashildr, annoyed. "I can look after myself, I told you."

The brunette woman wearing the white trouser suit went in, leaving Clara next to enter. The door opened, Clara looked back to Ashildr briefly before stepping inside the pitch black room.

"Please insert your tag into this space," a voice boomed above her as a red letter box space lit up on her left with a red arrow pointing to it. She turned to face the box and put her hand inside.

"Please look towards the blue dot," the voice instructed, "and state your name for the records." A large blue marker appeared on the wall. A white light shone on her face, it took a couple of seconds for Clara to adjust her eyes to the brightness.

"Clara Oswald," she said confidently. There was a brief silence.

"Identification complete, please continue to security." A door opened to her right, she followed the red arrow on the floor, hearing the door close behind her.

Clara was now in a small black corridor which continued in front of her, she could vaguely see the woman in the white trouser suit ahead at the end. There were two red footprints on the floor, with an arrow towards them. She placed her feet onto the footprints, and waited for something to happen. Three paces in front another set of footprints lit up with an arrow, she moved to them. After a few seconds two red handprints appeared in front of her, she placed her hands on the markers. Another set of footprints shone from the floor further down. She looked backwards as she moved, there was no sign of Ashildr. Clara saw two more handprints, higher up this time, following the instructions.

After this a panel opened at the end, exposing a harsh white light. There was still no sign of Ashildr behind her.

She emerged into a large aircraft hanger style area, nowhere near as big as the entrance hall, where she was queuing to access a bank of automatic machines. After several minutes Ashildr appeared.

"So," Clara said, relieved, "that was... weird. Where were you?"

"Had a bit of a problem because I had no tag," said Ashildr flatly, looking away, "they had to tattoo it again." She held up her hand. "And then they had to give me this." Ashildr displayed a square piece of light clear fabric covering over the back of her hand that appeared to be fused onto her skin with glue at the edges. A square code like the one tattooed onto Clara's hand was printed onto it. "Interested to see how long this lasts," she smiled, running her fingers over the fabric. "I give it about... six hours."

"Can I?" said Clara, looking down at it curiously.

"Go ahead," said Ashildr.

Clara touched the material as she held Ashildr's hand, it felt like a surgical glove underneath her thumb. "How weird! Like fake skin or something. Did it hurt?" The edges felt like grout between wall tiles.

"They lasered it on," said Ashildr sarcastically, "so take a wild guess."

"So, what was all that footprint stuff about?" Clara asked, facing forward, laughing to herself about Ashildr's hand.

"I don't know, biometrics or something?"

"They were collecting a lot of data, wonder what that is for?" Clara pondered as the woman in the white suit left the machine, gripping her son's hand tightly and dragging him off.

Clara walked up to the nearest terminal when she reached the front.

'Please scan your tag,' the screen read, a red arrow pointing towards the letterbox hole, vertical this time. Clara inserted her palm. 'Please remove your tag,' the screen said, Clara did as instructed. 'Please select your home currency.'

"What are we doing for money?" said Ashildr quietly, "seems like a relevant question right now." A bald man shuffled in behind Ashildr on Clara's left.

"Haven't quite figured that out yet," said Clara, waiting to see what the machine was going to do. She selected 'Great British Pounds' from a drop down menu. "See look, the pound, still going strong," she pointed at the console.

'Please select amount of Great British Pounds you would like to load onto your tag.'

"How much are we going to need?" Clara asked.

"How many clothes are you planning on buying?" Ashildr smirked.

"How many clothes are you planning on buying?" Clara replied equally as loaded. "A thousand pounds maybe? I mean that's for both of us?"

"Just select something," said Ashildr, hurrying her along.

Clara selected '£2000' from the available options.

'Please insert payment method, or enter account details.'

Clara got out the sonic sunglasses and put them on, aiming them at the machine. They chirped as Clara fiddled with the settings. Ashildr saw the screen fuzz over and averted her eyes.

'Thank you, a credit of £10,000,000 has been added to your account.'

"Seriously?" said Clara in a hushed whisper, cautiously looking around her, grinning. "Oswald for the win, again," she said in a hushed voice, doing a mini fist pump, replacing the sunglasses in her pocket, patting them down.

"What are you talking about?" said Ashildr.

'The current exchange rate is 5.84TCC per 1GBP. A total of 58,400,000TCC will be added. Please insert tag to add credit,' the machine read. Clara did as instructed, smiling widely. She felt something surround all five of her fingertips this time.

'Thank you, transaction complete. Please follow the arrows to enter. Have a nice day!' It released her hand.

Clara walked away from the machine, still grinning. "I've somehow just managed to get ten million pounds of money," she whispered to Ashildr. The arrows were pointing left from the machines. The bald man on the machine to their left was banging on the screen surround loudly, annoyed, raising his voice.

"What?! That's enough to buy one of those penthouses!" Ashildr gasped. "How on earth did you manage that?" she said quietly.

"I don't know," she said, eyes twinkling, "but I am not complaining."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still plugging on with this!
> 
> I'm currently at Chapter 36, approx 51,000 words in (21/04/2016), will post the next chapter once I've got it locked down, thanks for reading :-)


	10. Chapter 10

"Do you think I should get some money?" said Ashildr, distracted by a nearby empty machine.

"Probably best not to try," said Clara, now acutely aware of small security camera pointed in their direction. "Not sure if that will work again."

"But what if we get separated?"

"Come on, we're not going to get separated unless you deliberately wander off, stop being so paranoid," Clara said dismissively.

They were directed to a grand sparkling red and black marble staircase, over one hundred metres wide, a floor high. The ceiling towered two hundred feet above them, the banner above simply stated 'WELCOME' in fifty feet red translucent lettering. People were flooding up the stairs.

"Where did they get all this marble from?" Clara mused.

They ascended the staircase to enter the main space itself and were floored by the spectacle that met their eyes.

Clara and Ashildr stopped still and looked up, doing the same as everybody else walking in.

"Oh my god," said Clara, almost breaking her neck to see to the top. "Am I dreaming this?"

"No," sighed Ashildr, "you're not."

The ceiling disappeared into oblivion, only showing a twinkling night sky above, as if they were suspended directly under the stars. There were large white structural pillars every hundred metres or so along the concourse that rose like totems out of the red and black marble floor. These pillars then branched out into tree like structures at least one hundred levels above them, canopying across to meet the edges of the next. Where the pillars branched out there was a suspended walkway that intersected, Clara could just about make out figures moving on the top. It was so high above Clara felt almost compelled to lie down and gaze upwards, she saw a few people around her doing just that. The entrance hall they had come in from appeared like a postage stamp compared to this vast amount of space around them. It struck her at this point how empty the space was above, but was teeming with people like insects below.

The space itself was easily a kilometre wide, an entrance hall with a stream of people moving away from the staircase. The outside edge, above where they had just appeared from, and the left and right sides looked out into the stars uninterrupted, the glass barely visible.

Clara put her hands into her jacket pockets and paced the fifty metres to a space on the outer surface, putting her palm up to the glazing, feeling it cool against her touch, practically invisible to the naked eye. When she removed her hand, a faint imprint was left, disappearing after a couple of seconds. She stared out into the space, black punctuated only by the occasional pod that caught her eye, like a shooting star. A small child in blue dungarees next to her accidentally walked head first into the glass with a resounding thump and started crying, breaking her concentration. A parent came over, kissed the child on the forehead and swooped them away.

"Have you ever seen anything like this?" Clara said to Ashildr.

Ashildr shook her head, moving her eyes as close to the glass as she dared, surveying the outside. She could just about see the car park cylinders if she squinted hard enough. A blonde woman to her right knocked her knuckle against the glass, catching Ashildr's eye and smiled.

"Breathtaking isn't it?" she said in an American accent.

"It is," said Ashildr, continuing to survey the stars outside as the woman disappeared into the crowd. "I've waited a very long time to come here."

"It reminds me of a church I visited on holiday in Barcelona once, I forget what it's called," said Clara, walking over, still looking up, "just much, much bigger."

People were streaming out from the staircase still, some pausing to admire the view, others striding off to go inside the centre.

"This place is seriously impressive," said Clara. "Where are all the shops though?" she pondered as she noticed there was a curious lack of anybody selling anything in this area. Groups were congregating. Couples were hugging. Families were gazing and pointing out towards the stars.

"Are we even in the right place?" said Ashildr.

"I say let's follow everyone else. Shall we... Me?" she let out a small laugh. "I'm sorry, your name is never going to stop being funny."

Ashildr sighed as Clara begun strolling off briskly in the direction of the flow of people. There were hundreds of men, women and children around her, and soon it was becoming difficult to see Clara, who had thankfully stopped and was looking around.

"Is this what it's going to be like? Waiting for you to catch up?" Clara said, catching Ashildr's eye, "if you're going to be my companion-"

"Travelling with you," said Ashildr, narrowing her eyes, as she met her.

"-you need to stay with me." Clara continued walking, "if we get split up then there'll be this whole nightmare of me trying to find you, there'll be adventures, monsters, stuff blowing up, a countdown clock, some sort of save the world timer, a moral decision to make..." she paused for breath, smiling.

"Sounds a lot like yesterday," offered Ashildr as they began to be hemmed in by people around them.

"Yeah it does, doesn't it?" Clara laughed. "Rule number three of the TARDIS," Clara said holding up a finger to the air, "no wandering off."

"Ok, got it. Hold on when you move that handle, expect the unexpected and no wandering off. Excellent Doctoring so far," Ashildr said snidely, under her breath.

They were now in a large swell of people moving in the same direction. Ashildr began to feel hemmed in by bodies around her, now slowing down as the crowd became more densely packed.

"Do we even know where we are going?" said Ashildr.

"Not a clue," said Clara, "exciting isn't it?"

They were being filtered into more queues, the bodies were being pressed heavily against barriers as five people tried to fit into a space meant for one. Clara and Ashildr had become separated by a six inch wide large red marble waist high barrier. As the swarm of people continued along the barriers it became easier to walk as everyone inevitably was forced into single file.

Ashildr looked at the partition, unable to see a way to pass underneath, judging whether it would be possible or feasible to jump over it. "Clara, slow down for a few seconds, I'm coming over," said Ashildr, noticing that Clara's queue was moving marginally quicker.

"Quick then," Clara said, distancing herself from a tall blonde woman wearing a dark grey long shirt dress in front, watching as Ashildr deftly jumped over and swung her legs around in one smooth motion. Clara looked at her open mouthed.

"What?" asked Ashildr.

"You didn't list spontaneous gymnastics as one of your special skills," Clara observed.

"Didn't I? Sorry," she smirked, "must have missed that off my application form." Ashildr noticed the queue she had been in disappearing off to the right past a twelve foot high solid red partition. "You almost lost me," said Ashildr grinning, turning around, "but not quite."

"What is this all about?" said Clara. "If they are trying to get people to lose each other they really are going about it the right way, aren't they?"

"Is this a normal level of busy? Because it seems... busy?" Ashildr said, turning around to aim her voice at Clara.

"It's Black Friday," said strong Russian accent coming from a well built bald man behind Clara who had overheard their conversation, "everyone who can be here is here today." He was wearing a padded green and silver vertically striped jacket with a black holdall slung over his right shoulder.

"Black Friday? Do they even still have that?" said Clara, smiling, as they continued. "Looks like we turned up on the right day, Me!"

"What's Black Friday?" she said, turning around to make eye contact.

"It's an American thing, biggest shopping day of the year, lots of discounts. People fight over TVs in their local supermarket, that sort of stuff," Clara said, running her hand along the red wall as she continued walking, it felt highly polished under her fingertips. She couldn't gauge the temperature but imagined it would be cold.

"Maybe... thousand years ago," said the man behind them, laughing. "Where you from? First timers?"

"Blackpool," Clara said, turning around briefly, smiling, "it's a little town, has a tower, a very stiff sea breeze, karaoke and the fish and chips are excellent. And they have always been a thousand years behind everyone else." Clara paused for breath, "and yes, first time here, so what happens on Black Friday now?"

"Why would people fight over a TV?" Ashildr asked, still walking, beginning to feel hemmed in by the red wall on the right and the people in the queue to her right.

"That..." Clara tilted her head to think, "that is a good question... that I have no answer for. Nope. I've got nothing."

"Do you really not know?" said the Russian man in the puffer jacket, laughing loudly.

"We've been busy," said Clara. "Must have missed the email." She put her hands in the pockets of her jacket.

"You can have anything you want," he said, "if you can get it out."

"What? I don't understand?" said Clara, looking sideways.

"Clara?" said Ashildr, pulling on the sleeve her coat. "We are getting close to the front." An identical twelve foot red barrier appeared to the left of them, and the floor began to descend down gradually.

"What's up ahead?" Clara asked the man behind her.

"Transmission," he said, smiling. "How else would you get around?"

"Transmission?" said Clara, screwing up her face. "As in, we will be transmitted?"

Ashildr stopped slowly and Clara walked unwittingly into her back.

"Hey, what are you-" Clara started as Ashildr slipped behind quickly, pushing her in front.

"Transmission," said Ashildr, smirking, "sounds an awful lot like the sort of thing you should be doing first."

"Hang on a minute-" protested Clara, trying to think how she could pull off an identical manoeuvre to get Ashildr back in front of her.

"I'm not sure I'm ready to be transmitted," said Ashildr. "But at least this way you get to do it first."

"Thank you, I'm sure it will be fine," said Clara, trying to calm herself and failing miserably. There was now a ceiling across the two red walls, turning it into a descending corridor. It reminded Clara of a queue for a ride for a theme park. There were small halogen lights punctured into the ceiling every metre that picked out the sparkles in the marble. She reached out her hands to either side and was just able to put a palm flat on each wall. There was a muffled hum of chatter that echoed around the solid surfaces.

"The first time I went through," said the Russian man, "I feel like every part inside... was outside," he laughed loudly.

"Well thank you, that's all very reassuring," said Clara, sarcastically, turning around as she continued forward.

"Can't we just walk?" said Ashildr. "If there's an option to walk or be transmitted I know which I'll choose."

"It's one thousand miles long!" said the man behind. "Not possible!"

"Oh yeah," said Clara, "I hadn't considered. I guess I thought maybe they'd have those, umm, you know, flat escalators like they have at airports? What are they called?"

"I'm sure I can walk that far," said Ashildr. "Maybe not in these shoes, I thought sports shoes and high heels were meant to be mutually exclusive..." she looked down to the red and black chequered marble floor at Clara's shoes.

"Ashil- Me, the last time some men even thought about walking five hundred miles they wrote a song, a... really annoying song about it," Clara said flatly, "and I already told you, no wandering off. Or falling down at doors. Ok?"

"Why would I fall down at a door?" Ashildr asked, creasing her eyebrows, confused.

Clara sighed loudly. "Never mind," she said. "Remind me never to take you to a pub quiz."

"Are we planning to go to any... pub quizzes? Is that your special skill?" Ashildr retorted, sarcastically.

"I'll have you know I was on the team at the Fox and Hounds two weeks ago which won on the last question after I was able to recite the full names of anyone who has ever been in the Sugababes," she paused for effect, "in chronological order. If you knew who they were, you'd know that was," she smiled proudly, "quite the achievement."

"That is not a special skill," Ashildr stated as an absolute fact.

"Special enough to get me those two bottles of wine in my fridge," said Clara.

"You know Sugababes?" said the Russian man, excitedly. "My kids love them!"

"Seriously? One thousand," Clara paused, thinking, "one hundred and twenty... two years in the future and they are still going. Talk about a franchise! And a back catalogue, wow."

"What are you talking about?" said Ashildr, getting annoyed.

Clara slowed down as she noticed the woman in the grey dress holding a small black clutch bag getting closer. She peered around to see what was coming up. The queue came to a standstill.

Ashildr leaned against the right side wall, putting her hands behind her onto the cool smooth marble. She looked through the gap between the bodies and the wall to see only a handful of people in front of them.

"What happens during transmission?" Clara asked the man behind over Ashildr.

"You go in, you say where you go, you go," he said, "simple!" He reminded Clara of a car insurance advert she'd seen once.

"Is it as bad as those things in the car park?" asked Ashildr.

"Worse," he laughed heartily, "Try not to breathe in, my advice," he said.

"Simple," Clara said under her breath, turning to look forward. She folded her arms and tapped her fingers on her arm.

"Are you... nervous?" said Ashildr to Clara, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you were all, 'let's go!', 'exciting isn't it!', 'I'm the Doctor!'?"

"I'm not nervous," said Clara as she walked a couple of paces forward to close the gap, "I saw myself getting faxed or 3D printed or whatever in that tower block. I've been miniaturised... oh yes, and I've been killed. All that stuff. But I wasn't the one in charge then. I've got you to look after now."

"You do not need to look after me, I keep on telling you," Ashildr said, heaving herself off the wall to join Clara.

"I kind of do," said Clara.

"You really don't. Not as if anyone can hurt me is it?"

"No," Clara paused, "but to me you're still that girl in the village who declared war on an alien master race."

"Did I really do that?" said Ashildr. "Impressive. And you're still that person stupid enough to take a Quantum Shade off someone. I forget who."

"His name was Rigsy," she stated flatly, "before yesterday I'd met you twice... no three times" said Clara, "once at the very beginning, once at the end of my life and once at the end of the world. Now that we've had to start saving each other from Zygons and possessed paper and falling off buildings and shopping centres tattooing us, I have a duty of care-" she stopped suddenly.

"No you don't, because I never asked you to do that," Ashildr said, moving a pace forward.

"Woah," said Clara, looking at her. "That... that is scary."

"Why is that scary?" Ashildr said, screwing up her face.

"Because I said exactly the same thing to him when he said that to me," Clara said, tilting her head.

They were approaching the end of the queue. The blonde woman in the grey dress was the next to go through the red door. She looked down at a watch on her right wrist quickly. Her hand had the same tattoo as Clara's on it.

"Come on, come on," the woman in front said under her breath, as the door opened. She walked into a bright red room. It closed before Clara got a decent look as her eyes adjusted to the light. Ashildr had stood closely next to her to do the same.

"Doesn't look that bad," said Ashildr.

"No it doesn't, does it?" said Clara. The door opened and Clara made her move, wrestling with Ashildr until she managed to push her roughly forward. "But I'm much happier with you going first."

"No!" said Ashildr looking out as the door sealed, to see Clara smirking, waving and mouthing the word, 'bye' back at her. She banged on the door with her fist loudly.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefull you all have a good idea of what the shopping centre looks like in your head, but if you don't... here's the sort of thing I'm going for inside the place for the [trees](https://georgiephillipsblog.files.wordpress.com/2015/02/img_0036.jpg), the [general feeling of the place](http://www.catholicnewsagency.com/images/The_interior_of_the_Sagrada_Familia.jpg), the [advertising boards](http://41.media.tumblr.com/73d6da2d9020ca6dcd8a16abb601efbd/tumblr_n2yob1ilXU1tus777o3_1280.png) and the scale of the [boulevards](http://i1.trekearth.com/photos/115778/57-champs_elysees.jpg).
> 
> But obviously much MUCH bigger!

Ashildr put her forehead on the door and then spun around wondering what to do.

'Please scan your tag,' said a mechanical female voice above her. Ashildr looked up towards the red ceiling twelve feet above her.

"Where?" said Ashildr, seeing nowhere obvious to scan her hand after inspecting every one of the four red walls in the small square room.

'Please scan your tag,' said the voice again, identically a minute later.

A white arrow appeared and pointed to a small letterbox sized hole to her right that had been disguised by the bright lights a moment ago.

Ashildr cautiously put her hand inside, palm down and the white arrow dissolved. There was a loud bang from the outside which caused Ashildr to look in the direction of the door.

'Please remain still,' said the mechanical voice. There was one further loud bang and then nothing. 'Thank you. Please state your destination.'

"What?" said Ashildr, unsure.

'Please state your destination,' it repeated. 'Please state the department or area you require.'

Ashildr paused, thinking what Clara would say. "Clothing?" she asked, unsure.

'Thank you. Please remove your tag.' A door opened on Ashildr's left hand side. 'Please enter transmission area.'

Ashildr removed her hand and moved towards the space. It was a narrow white corridor which appeared to end about ten feet in front of her. She had moved three paces forward before the door shut behind her and she began to experience pins and needles all over her body.

Ashildr felt an intense pressure in the pit of her stomach as she moved, like someone had stabbed a red hot poker inside of her belly button. This changed a second later to the sensation of all of her internal organs being removed out through the imaginary wound. She tried to move her hands to the area but found them paralysed.

She screamed loudly as she got the distinct feeling that her whole body was covering the walls of the room she was standing in whilst still walking forwards.

After several seconds she experienced a large pressure in the small of her back and a sensation like she had been kicked very hard between her shoulder blades. She fell forwards and broke into a fast run to get away, just about managing to stay on her feet as she emerged into a wide open clinically white space peppered with people.

Ashildr immediately had control of all her senses, still running and crashed heavily into a waist height white smooth marble wall in front of her and was violently sick over the upper surface into a lower section. She looked down and realised with a grimace that she wasn't the only person who had done the exact same thing. After thirty seconds or so she felt better as her body repaired itself.

Ashildr saw a dispenser for tissues to her left and moved towards it, taking one to wipe her mouth. After ten seconds it disappeared into thin air magically between her fingers.

To her left was a neon red outlined square hole next to it with the word 'WATER' written above in three inch red translucent letters. Ashildr leaned down to look inside, before putting her hand in, seeing lasers scan the outer side of her hand as a two inch small plastic pouch full of ice cold water next to her hand. She looked at it confused, seeing an air bubble rest at the top, moving away to let a seven foot tall man wearing a black suit and carrying a leather bag use the machine. She watched as he took the pouch and put it into his mouth and then disappeared off. She swallowed the pouch, feeling the outer case melt on her tongue and the cold water filter slowly into her mouth, instantly feeling refreshed.

Ashildr watched ten people emerge from various doorways until she recognised Clara half running out in the same way she had. Clara managed to reach the white wall and put her elbows on the top, holding her hair back, vomiting loudly several times. Ashildr turned around laughing to herself, wondering if Clara would recover as quickly as she did, thinking she partly deserved it for pushing her through the machine first.

After a few minutes Clara raised her head, very pale and staggering away from where she had been resting. Ashildr moved towards her, smirking to herself.

"Feeling OK?" she said, trying to contain her laughter. "Thought I'd leave you to whatever you were doing loudly several times... I'd like to say I was concerned for you but I guess it serves you right for forcing me into that thing first."

"If you mention this to me ever again..." said Clara quietly. She couldn't recall ever being that sick without copious amounts of alcohol being involved. "... I will slap you."

"Don't think I ever recall the Doctor being sick," Ashildr pondered, smiling.

"Shut up," said Clara, her face drained of any colour, leaning heavily onto Ashildr, putting her arm around her shoulder. "Water. I need water."

"Oh, I think I saw some over here," said Ashildr deliberately blankly, putting her right arm around Clara's waist to hold her up.

She guided Clara to the machine, slowly, taking most of her body weight. Clara put her hand into the machine and took the pouch and looked at in the same way Ashildr had moments before.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" said Clara out loud, raising herself up slightly.

"Not sure, maybe you eat it?" said Ashildr, as if making a suggestion.

Clara put the pouch inside her mouth and swallowed hard. "How weird," she said. She put her hand into the machine to get another one, to find it flash up a message saying only one per person. "Can you get me another one?" asked Clara.

"Ok," said Ashildr quietly, knowing she was now going to be found out. She put her hand in and the machine displayed the same message. She lowered her head, putting her left hand to the left of the machine, turning her head away.

Clara moved away from her, recovering slightly as she reached for a tissue to her right. Ashildr could see her expression changing and her brain formulating words in her head.

"So hang on..." Clara said, colour returning to her face, walking away as others queued behind them, her face trying not to smile. "Oh, I think I saw some over here, oh, maybe you have to eat it?" She looked down at the tissue disappearing whilst in her hand. "What the-?"

"OK, look-" started Ashildr, conceding.

"Oh, you never see the Doctor being sick? Well- well-" Clara stuttered, "I don't recall anyone immortal ever being sick," she said as she undid her jacket.

"OK, you got me," Ashildr held her hands up in mock defeat. "Are you actually OK?"

"I'll live," Clara narrowed her eyes for a moment shaking her head, before her expression softened. "I'm still well enough to slap you if you ever mention this again," she pointed at her before putting her hands in her jacket pockets and marched off out of the area. Clara took ten paces forward and then stopped, turning around to call out, "come on, Ashildr. I'm sick of waiting for you to catch up," she continued strolling off.

Ashildr sighed and followed Clara into a large space that was almost identical to the area with the tree pillars they had been in earlier. She couldn't help but gaze towards the stars twinkling in the night sky above.

The white tree pillars canopied over one hundred floors high above as they had done earlier, every fifty metres or so, with the suspended walkway weaving its way through the branches. They were now in a very long boulevard with shops either side that extended to their left and right. The floor tiles were chequered bright and dark green marble, giving the impression of grass underfoot. This boulevard was over one hundred metres wide and was full of people walking in front of them. Not quite as many as there had been as there had been before the transmission area, but still enough for it to look busy. Very busy.

The shop fascias opposite them were one hundred feet high, with nothing above them displaying a never ending night sky between that and the tree canopy. Clara decided that must be the outer edge, and the view made her feel like she was floating on an outer space platform, the glass outer was completely invisible.

"Have you ever been to Paris?" asked Clara weakly, still feeling a little unwell.

"Probably have at some point during my extensive life," said Ashildr, "if you are asking if I can remember then the answer is no."

"Oh," said Clara, "it's like a big shopping street there. The, umm, Champs-Élysées..." She paused before smiling weakly, "just don't ask me to spell it."

The shops to Clara's left and right had huge uninterrupted towering projection screens above them to the height of the top of the screens, displaying advertising constantly. On the floor in the centre of the boulevard were two glass cylinder tubes either side of the tree pillars. Clara could see the occasional pod flash past very quickly if she squinted hard enough. On the outside of the tubes were the moving walkways Clara had expected to see, people covering part of them, moving at least ten times faster than anything she ever seen previously. Before the walkways were a line of white stone benches that carried on along the length of the boulevard uninterrupted. There were subways interspersed between the tree pillars that ran under the benches, the moving walkways and the glass tubes to reach the other side.

"This is like every shopping centre I've ever been to multiplied to infinity," sighed Clara, stumbling again, "I need to sit down," she collapsed slightly onto Ashildr, still feeling a little queasy, she made her way to the nearest empty bench fifty metres away, weaving her way through the people and sat down, cradling her head in her hands. Ashildr sat down to her left and put her right hand on Clara's back gently.

"Are you sure you're OK?" asked Ashildr, now genuinely concerned.

Clara nodded lightly.

Ashildr noticed a small white box levitating in their direction through the crowd. It was a three feet high, two feet square and rounded at the edges. It hovered a foot off the ground and stopped directly in front of them.

"What is this?" said Ashildr, pointing towards the box.

Clara raised her head to see the box lowering, rattling as the right side hit the ground first. A life size human hologram from the waist up appeared above the box. It was the same man who had been in the pod tour, this time wearing a white polo shirt, a red apron and a black baseball hat. It looked very lifelike, much clearer and realistic than Holo-Clara.

"Hello Clara," said the man brightly in a soft American accent, smiling, looking at Clara and then at Ashildr.

"Err hello... how do you know my name?" said Clara, confused, lifting her head up.

"We have identified you as visiting for the first time," he paused, "and that your current body language is displaying signs of being unwell. Is there anything you require, Clara?"

"It identified my body language as being... unwell?" said Clara, creasing her eyebrows. "Who did?"

"The TCM is dedicated to customer safety and comfort at all times..." he paused to smile, "it is perfectly normal to have an adverse reaction to transmission. We have identified that although you both became unwell after transmission, however now only Clara is displaying signs of nausea, fatigue and dehydration."

"I was perfectly fine after transmission," said Ashildr, correcting him.

"Of course you were," Clara said sarcastically. "What do you have?" said Clara, deciding to play along for now.

"Based on your visible symptoms, Clara, I would suggest water, painkillers and mouth cleanser."

"Hmm," said Clara, pondering. "OK then."

"Please scan your tag," he said, as a rectangular red lined space appeared in front of her. He smiled and pointed downwards.

"Hang on," Clara paused, "how much is it?"

"You will be charged 200 Tricadia Credits or 34 pounds 25 pence."

"Wow, that is what you call inflation," said Clara, putting her hand inside the machine. "Don't suppose you have a Sainsbury's Local here?" she laughed.

"Thank you, Clara, you may remove your tag now." He smiled as he opened a flap on the top edge of the machine which displayed three pouches of water like the ones from the machine and two smaller postage stamp size capsules. One was bright white and the other a clear green. "Please swallow the white tablet," he indicated.

"Are you sure you want to do this? It might be poisonous," said Ashildr, visually inspecting the pouches.

"Yeah, it might," she said, smirking. "I guess I'll find out."

Clara carefully picked up the small white capsule and held it between her thumb and forefinger of her right hand. It reminded her of something she would put in a washing machine as it flexed slightly under pressure. She held it up to the light, watching as it became mottled. She took a deep breath and swallowed it in one gulp. It was tasteless.

"We have approximated the amount of liquid that needs replenishing-"

"Thank you very much for reminding me," said Clara, unimpressed. Ashildr laughed next to her, folding her arms, leaning back.

"Please have all the liquids," he pointed down again. Clara swallowed the three pouches in quick succession, immediately beginning to feel better as they dissolved onto her tongue. She imagined it was cold, still unable to gauge any sort of temperature.

"It is encouraging to see you looking better Clara," he smiled. "Please chew on the green tablet."

Clara picked up the green tablet, it was heavier and felt solid. She was initially hesitant due to the similarity in colour to washing up liquid, but it tasted like peppermint as it disappeared inside her mouth.

"That's weird, not completely unpleasant, just weird," Clara said. "Like a melting chewing gum."

"Do you require anything else?" the man said.

"Can I have one of those green things?" said Ashildr.

"Why would you need one of them?" said Clara, smiling.

"No reason," Ashildr said, distracted.

The man closed and reopened the hatch, presenting another green tablet. Ashildr picked it up with her left hand and placed it on her tongue, it was icy cold, overwhelmingly minty and melted away to nothing.

"Now you have both recovered, enjoy your time at the TCM. Have a nice day!" he said, grinning. His image disappeared into the top of the box and it slowly levitated off the floor, turning around and swooping in the direction of a small child crying twenty metres or so away from them.

"So... that was, interesting," smiled Clara. "I wonder if they sell them? The actual machines. Could have done with one of them the morning after the Fox and Hounds."

"Why?" Ashildr asked.

"I may," she stopped herself, "or may not, have had a bit to drink that night." She smirked, tilting her head. "I was, or wasn't, very, very fragile the next morning," she shook her head in shame.

"Oh, I see."

Clara got up suddenly, recovered from her earlier malaise, she smoothed her dress down. "So Me, now that we are here and I'm now suitably recovered, let's go exploring!" she said enthusiastically, grinning whilst walking backwards, then turning around and striding off to the right, putting her hands in her jacket pocket to wrap it around her.

Ashildr rolled her eyes. "Great," she muttered under her breath as she heaved herself off the bench in pursuit.


	12. Chapter 12

Clara strode confidently off in front, Ashildr jogged lightly up to her along the slipstream she created through the people.

"So what do we do now?" said Ashildr when she caught up.

"First thing," said Clara, pointing to their left, "we go there."

"What is it?" said Ashildr, seeing rows of men and women standing behind a small white wall inside a large clinically white room on their left.

"Look up," pointed Clara.

Ashildr looked up to see the word 'Information Point' in fifty feet high red letters above the room which she hadn't noticed previously. "Well spotted," she said, "sounds like a plan."

"Yeah it does, doesn't it?" Clara said, eyes sparkling. "I feel there might be another rule coming up soon as well. We're in a strange place, least we can do is get a map. Write that down as rule number four."

Ashildr nodded in agreement as they approached the sliding glass door. Clara went inside first, checking out where to go. There were hundreds of alternating men and women behind the long solid white counter top.

"Which out of these two do we trust more?" Clara stopped, folding her arms, deciding which to go to out of the two available options. The man on the left was the same as the one who had just served her water. He was now wearing the black suit and red tie he had been when his image was inside the pod. He was clean shaven and had neatly spiked brown hair, smiling widely, hands in front of him. The woman to the right was the same as the blonde woman from the car park machine, stood in identical posturing to the man, wearing a black suit and a white shirt.

"Why are we seeing holograms everywhere today?" mused Ashildr. "It wouldn't surprise me if you worked here as well," she observed.

"Looks like they could only afford the two actors," Clara laughed. "They might need me soon. I'll wait for that call. So do we want to go with," she tilted her head to her left, "a tiny little man who may have poisoned me..." she moved her head right, "or a woman who has given the second worst tattoo I've ever had in my life. It's a difficult decision. Could affect the whole course our day. What do you think?" she said joking.

"Are you asking me whether I prefer him or her?" said Ashildr, confused.

"Not quite what I asked..."

"The man," Ashildr said.

"OK, then," said Clara.

Clara walked up to the man on the left. His white name badge said 'TIM' in red capital letters.

"Hello and welcome to Tricadiamercato," he said in the familiar American accent.

"Well hello, Tim," said Clara, patronisingly. "Haven't you gone up in the world?" she smirked at Ashildr sideways whilst leaning her elbows on the top of the counter. She stood on a small step in front of the counter, elevating her by six inches.

"Please scan your tag," he said, holding his hand towards his right, nearest Ashildr, to a red laser.

Ashildr stepped on the ledge and held her hand underneath, the skin graft was beginning to feel itchy.

"Hello, Me," he said with a smile, turning to look at her. "How can I help you today?"

"Umm..." she paused, looking down, scratching at her hand to think, coming up with nothing.

Clara turned to watch her, mouth open. "You don't have a single question?"

Ashildr shrugged and shook her head, "I'm not sure-"

"Seriously," she sighed. "I'm sorry, Tim, this," she pointed at Ashildr with her right hand, not looking at her, "is what I have to work with at the moment. Where are we?"

"Please scan your tag," said Tim, smiling at Clara. She was sure he had emphasised the word 'your'.

Clara reached past Ashildr and scanned her hand under the laser, returning to her previous position.

"Hello Clara, in answer to your question," he paused, waving his hands over the counter top to display an opaque spinning three dimensional map of the centre. "You are currently here, at C763" he pointed to a pulsing white dot as the map stopped rotating.

"Can you tell me about this area?" asked Clara, trying to glean as much information as possible.

"You are currently in the Clothing section of the TCM, one of the largest and most diverse areas of the complex." He pointed to a shaded green area of the map in front of them. He expanded his hands to show a plan of just the section they were in. "This section is over fifty miles long, and almost any item of clothing ever made is available to you here-"

"Hang on..." Clara said, eyes wide. "Any item of clothing ever made?"

"Yes Clara, that is correct. Every main clothing manufacturer has a presence here. Many of the shops use, if you pardon the haberdashery pun," he smiled, "cutting edge technology to produce the clothing, but I am sure you will want to discover that for yourself."

"I might be able to replace the jacket you ripped to shreds," said Clara as an aside. "You may be off the hook." Clara smiled smugly at her own pun.

"Where was that entrance we came in?" asked Ashildr, ignoring her.

"The main entrance you came in was here," Tim said, expanding the map to display a second pulsing white dot. "Over 800 miles away."

"How did we get from there to here?" asked Ashildr.

"This is better, Me," said Clara, smiling at her.

"That is a process we call Transmission," said Tim.

"How does that work?" asked Clara. "Is it like a teleport?"

"It works on a similar principle, except here at the TCM the Transmission areas convert your body into a flow of atoms that are pushed around the central area of the structure, and then emerge where you request. I can explain the mathematics of it for you, if you wish?"

"No, I'm OK, ta," said Clara.

"So I was turned into atoms and reassembled?" said Ashildr. "Not sure how comfortable I am with that..."

"Essentially yes," said Tim. "It won't be as bad the second time. My personal tip for you," he said as aside, smiling, "is to run on the way in."

"Is it safe?" asked Ashildr.

“I can reassure you there is nothing to be afraid of, we have an excellent safety record. There are over fifty million transmission journeys on an average day here. And each person is separated by a section of liquid, what we call Transmission Fluid. Did you know we have never had a fire or any serious-“

"Like in a motorbike?" said Clara, raising an eyebrow.

"If that is the metaphor you would like to use, then yes," said Tim. "I can direct you to the transportation area of the TCM?"

"No, thank you," said Clara.

"So why is it so busy?" said Ashildr.

"That is an excellent question, Me, I suppose you know already that today is Black Friday," Tim replied.

"We found that out by accident on the way in," said Clara. "What's Black Friday? Apart from people fighting over electricals?"

"Black Friday is tradition established in what used to be the United States of America, now Americania, in the year 1932, one thousand two hundred and six years ago as the day after Thanksgiving."

"What's Thanksgiving?" said Ashildr.

"It's an Americanian public holiday," he said.

"Families eat a big turkey and have a day off work," Clara summarised. "OK, enough of the history, what's happening here today?" Clara asked.

"At midnight tonight there are twenty four hours worth of discounts on everything."

"Everything?" Clara said, incredulous.

"All products sold in the TCM are discounted by at least fifty percent for the twenty four hours of Black Friday. It is only available on the structure, nowhere else. Our current records suggest 762,523,738 people are on the structure at present, this is why, Me, it may feel a little busier than normal." He smiled widely.

"Almost eight hundred million?!" said Ashildr. "That is a lot of people."

"That is a lot of money," pointed out Clara, thinking out loud. "What's the time?"

"Current time is 10.41pm, Clara," he pointed to a large clock on the rear wall.

"So we have a little while before it all kicks off then. Do you have any maps?" Clara asked.

"Of course." He smiled and the counter brought out two bright red square objects the size of a post-it note. The three dimensional map of the centre disappeared as he straightened one of the squares in front of him and moved one towards Ashildr. He unfolded the square once and then the whole thing outwards again three more times. A smaller version of the map popped out of it. He picked up a stylus and put several holographic crosses on the map. "We are currently here. Anything you want to see whilst you are visiting?" he asked.

"What would you recommend?" Ashildr asked. Clara leant a little further over the counter to look closer, smiling on approvingly.

"The main areas are the two end sections – this side," he pointed to their left, "is where the hotels and leisure areas are. Swimming pools, beaches, spas, and the like."

"A beach? On a shopping centre? In space?!" Clara said surprised, "talk about a first go!"

"The other end is where the bars, restaurants and socialising are located. There are also cinemas, multiple viewing platforms and three theme parks. The feature travelators are on either side, but the one on the hotel side generally tends to be quieter. We also have a new attraction, called the Volito... here," he marked another cross on the map.

"What's that?" said Ashildr.

"It's a space tube where you float untied without gravity one mile away from the external surface. It rated in the top five Best New Attractions of 3138. We don't like to brag but," he smoothed down his jacket, "three of them were here," he grinned.

"Sounds... safe. What were the other two?" Clara asked.

"There is a new ride inside the extreme theme park this year, the Conruptus. It takes twenty minutes to experience, over three hundred loops, a two mile vertical drop and the longest pitch black section ever constructed."

"Sounds like the pods we came here in," Clara mused.

"The second was the sand, snow and surf simulator. It has two hundred feet high waves, large real snow snowboard and ski runs and sand buggy driving. Two months ago Brock McNewland managed to surf continuously for twelve hours, setting a new Guinness Intergalactic record."

"Well he certainly sounds like a surfer," laughed Clara.

"Anything else?" Ashildr asked.

"I would also recommend going to the Charles Dalstram II Platea. This is the largest indoor space ever constructed, capable of holding almost one billion people, and it is right here in the middle on the other side. We call it," he lowered his voice, "the dark side, as it faces away from the light."

"I think that's a line stolen from Star Wars, Tim," Clara replied flippantly. He folded up the map and directed Clara to pick it up. She leaned back against the counter away from him to look at it. It felt solid, like a bright red square compact mirror, she played with it in her hands.

"I have also marked the main entrance and exits to aid you on your journey. I trust you are paying for both of these, Clara?"

"What?" said Clara, not turning around. "I thought they were free."

"A small charge is applicable," he said, smiling.

"Fine," Clara said, waving her hand. "I don't want this one getting lost." She pointed backwards to Ashildr with her thumb and unfolded the map a few times in her hand, still leaning backwards.

He indicated for Ashildr to pick up the second map. She slid it off the counter, looking at Tim smiling at her. For a split second his image fuzzed over, now displaying that of a woman with long straight blonde hair, green eyes, bright red lips and wearing a dark blue short sleeved shirt.

"There you go, that's them," Tim's voice came from the woman's mouth. The face was aimed towards Clara, and the right hand was pointed at her.

"Clara," Ashildr holding onto Clara's shoulder, not taking her eyes away. "There is something strange happening to Tim."

"Hmm? What?" Clara said, raising her head from inspecting the map and turning around to look.

The woman's form fuzzed over and Tim's image reappeared again before Clara reacted.

"What are you talking about?" Clara said, putting the map into her left jacket pocket.

"Can I help you with anything else?" said Tim. Ashildr was staring at him intently.

"No thank you, we should probably get going," said Clara smiling. "I've got every outfit in human history to choose from, this is going to be very a long day. Thanks Tim."

"Thank you, Clara and Me... and have a nice day!" he said brightly.

Clara turned around and put her hands in her pockets, strolling off. Ashildr was still narrowing her eyes at Tim as he smiled back at her. She backed away as his grin snapped off into a snarl once Clara was a few paces away. Ashildr caught Clara up, heading out of the glass door, stealing a glance back to Tim, realising that all the versions of him were staring at her.


	13. Chapter 13

Once they were outside, Ashildr stopped Clara by catching up with her, still holding the map in her left hand.

"Did you see that?" said Ashildr, glancing back nervously towards the information centre.

"See what?" said Clara, confused, "what were you on about in there?"

"Tim's hologram turned into a woman, with long blonde hair, in a navy shirt. She looked at you and pointed at me, saying they'd found us. Then as we were leaving, all of the... Tims... were staring at me," she said without pausing for breath.

"Come on, all of the Tims were not staring at you," dismissed Clara, stepping away from her. "He was talking about the maps. You're not having much luck with the holograms today are you?" she laughed.

"I definitely saw it change," stated Ashildr loudly, "why won't you believe me?"

"Because we've turned up on a random day, nothing is going to happen, we are here to get some clothes, maybe a few drinks, maybe some food and then we'll go back," Clara said as she walked. "This is a day out, we're not going to need to save the world or stop some sort of nuclear attack or anything. That is not the sort of thing we are going to do, we are just going to find a few cool things to look at and then move on."

"What happened to all of this," Ashildr said, "expect the unexpected?" She put the red map into her right pocket.

"That rule still stands," said Clara. "But what trouble are we going to get in whilst we are-" Clara stopped still, distracted and paced to her left, holding out her left arm to stop Ashildr.

"What?" said Ashildr, looking around.

"Shut... up!" exclaimed Clara, pacing slowly towards the front of a nearby shop. "No way."

Ashildr saw what had caught her eye. There was a large white video screen in the window of the shop that stretched for as far as she could see in the distance in front of her. People were standing close staring and pointing all the way along. Large figures were striding along the entire height of the fifty foot high hoarding, but Clara was looking directly at a mirror image of herself wearing a completely different set of clothes. The reflection was wearing high heels and a suit, her hair was styled differently. Clara put her right hand up to the marginally taller image, and then pulled away, impressed.

"Why am I not surprised you were distracted by an image of yourself?" said Ashildr snidely.

"You're on here too," said Clara, pointing to the screen, as she turned around to look at herself from the back. "I like this, I like this... a lot."

Ashildr turned to look at her reflected image. The slightly shorter version was wearing something that she would have preferred to have been, decent shoes, a leather jacket, a few layers of t-shirts and jumpers. Her hair and make-up were different than she had seen before. It mirrored her every movement, the clothes creased and fell naturally.

Clara moved backwards a couple of paces and the reflection increased in size, she laughed to herself, stepping forward again. "You have got to be kidding me," she said loudly. "How the hell are they doing that?"

"I don't know," said Ashildr, not seeing any obvious cameras or a way of scanning her.

"It's like they've put the clothes and hair from a model in a magazine onto my body. Is that why they were scanning us earlier maybe?" Clara thought out loud whilst still admiring herself in the suit. "I don't know what is going on, but all I know I want this outfit. What do you think?"

"Yeah, it's nice," Ashildr said distracted as she went forward be a foot away from her image, a rectangle with the outfit gradually appeared to her right, along with a red square that said 'BUY' and '4485TCC/768GBP' below. She stepped away and it disappeared slowly.

"Nice? No, no, no, Me, this is a Gucci suit," Clara sighed as she was standing in front of her image, hovering her hand over the buy button. "This whole outfit is £1200," Clara gasped excitedly. "I don't think I've ever bought anything that expensive before, but I want it," she said, eyes glinting. "Wonder what happens if I actually buy it? Will it ask me for a size?" she raised an eyebrow, tilted her head and pressed the button. A small black hole appeared where the button had been. There was a red arrow and the word 'TAG' above, Clara inserted her hand and a message appeared on the screen. 'Articles will be printed to your requirements and delivered to your vehicle upon return.'

"What?" said Clara. "Are they serious? I don't even have to carry it around?" Clara laughed.

"Impressive," nodded Ashildr in agreement.

Clara noticed the entrance to the shop a little further along and moved towards it. The screen was displaying another outfit for her, a beige trench coat, dark blue jeans, white shirt and brown boots. Her hair was styled up and the image reflected the way she held her hands in the pockets. "This screen is like my own personal stylist, isn't it?" Clara said, stopping and looking at herself, lifting the collar of the jacket. "Wow. I want this too." She pressed the buy button.

"What is wrong with you?" said Ashildr, derisively, ignoring the new ensemble the screen had picked for her.

Clara grabbed Ashildr's arm and marched her inside, like a child in a sweet shop.

There was a twenty foot wide walkway that went perpendicularly inside the store on their left with the same screens on either side. The floor and ceiling fifty feet above were covered in glittering black marble. Clara looked either side of her and saw two different outfits, changing every five or six paces or so as she progressed inside.

"Think of all the changing I'm not having to do!" said Clara. She bought another couple of outfits as she moved through. "I want to live here in this place."

"Yeah," said Ashildr, not seeing anything she liked yet. "Don't you think we should wait until after midnight? It's only an hour or so away?"

"That..." Clara stood still and pointed at her, looking away, "that is an excellent point," Clara conceded. "God this is going to be difficult!"

The walkway extended a hundred metres inside before turning right at a ninety degree angle. Clara was unable to see the end once they turned the corner, seeing only hundreds of people observing outfits. It appeared to be personalised as each person was wearing different clothes as she went past.

"Come on Me, you should have seen something you like by now?" Clara turned to walk with her, they were both wearing different outfits on either side. "What about this?"

Ashildr surveyed the outfit presented. It was a tied up black leather trench coat, ankle boots, a white shirt, dark red trousers and a dark blue bag. "It's not bad I suppose."

"Not bad you suppose? That's all you are giving me?" said Clara, folding her arms. Her reflection in a dark green prom dress and white stilettos did the same.

"Yeah," sighed Ashildr, her pose reminding her of seeing the two holograms again., "I've spent a long time alone, I told you, not much call for this in five billion years. How can you be so materialistic?"

"What can I say, we are living in a material world and I am a material girl, Me," Clara grinned, knowing she wouldn't get the reference.

Ashildr creased her eyebrows, confused, "who said that? Was it Shakespeare?"

"Sort of," Clara said playfully.

"Oh, ok. This is just... odd." Ashildr reviewed the clothes again, turning around to see a red dress and black tights ensemble like Clara's current clothing on the image behind her. "I don't like this," she pointed, "a little too similar to what you usually go around in."

"Yeah, it is a bit," Clara agreed. "But I like that dress."

"Of course you do," Ashildr said sarcastically. "Ok, I'll get this," she pointed in front, if only to subdue Clara, finding her distracted several paces away. She stepped up to the screen and the buy button appeared, she pressed it and then placed her hand inside the scanner. Her image changed to that of the blonde woman she had seen at the information point, mirroring her every movement. She was wearing a navy blue shirt and a grey skirt. Her green eyes bore a hole into Ashildr as her bright red lips smirked. "Clara!" Ashildr called out loudly. A message asking for another tag for payment was being displayed. The woman continued to stare her out.

"Yes?" said Clara, directing her attention over whilst looking at the screen.

"Come here! Quickly!" said Ashildr. "That woman is back!"

Clara reluctantly strode over, seeing Ashildr stood stock still, pointing at the screen.

Ashildr stood pointing, as Clara approached the image it thankfully didn't change. Ashildr folded her arms and pointed with a finger.

"What the-" said Clara. "Who the hell is that?" The image snapped back to Ashildr as she blinked.

"See, I told you!" said Ashildr, smugly. "Tim changed into that woman. I told you!"

"OK, I believe you," Clara apologised quickly, under her breath.

"What was that? I didn't quite hear you?" Ashildr held up her left hand to her ear and put her right hand on her hip. "It sounded like an apology, but I can't be sure."

"I'm sorry, OK? I believe you now," Clara said at a normal volume, tilting her head.

"Thank you," acknowledged Ashildr with a nod, she then paused. "And as you are currently feeling so generous, you also need to pay for this," she cast her hand around her image, smirking. Clara shook her head and narrowed her eyes to the floor, putting her right hand into the machine.


	14. Chapter 14

They continued making their way through the walkway. Ashildr was beginning to tire of the relentless stream of clothing being paraded on her. Clara was still entranced by the various versions of her strolling alongside, she stopped occasionally to purchase another ensemble.

"So why is..." Clara paused, trying to think of someone to visually liken the woman to in her mind, "Taylor Swift following you around? Glitch in the system maybe?"

"Who's... Taylor Swift?" Ashildr creased her eyebrows as they continued walking. The image to her right caught her eye as it displayed her in a large wedding dress. She turned to inspect herself, finding it unbearably sickening and intriguing at the same time. She swished the material around, laughing to herself.

"She's a singer, makes a living out of writing songs about ex boyfriends," said Clara, distracted to her left by a royal blue shirt style playsuit.

"I bet I'd be good at that... lots of material," Ashildr replied.

"Yeah, it is, isn't it?" Clara replied referring to Ashildr's dress.

"What do you think?" Ashildr asked, smiling, looking at herself.

"Thanks and everything, but I don't really know you that well yet," said Clara sarcastically, turning around laughing as she put her hands in her pockets and continued away from her.

"What?!" said Ashildr surprised a few seconds later, realising Clara was now a good distance further down and too far away to hear her. She debated how long to leave before following.

A loud announcement caused them both to point their eyes towards the ceiling. All the people around them stopped silent as they did the same.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Tricadiamercato," said a nondescript male voice. "As it is approaching midnight, it is our pleasure to announce Black Friday will begin in ten, nine, eight," the voice began counting down, echoed by all the people around them excitedly joining in the countdown, "seven, six, five," Ashildr and Clara looked at each other, shrugging, and said loudly, "four, three, two..."

"One..." everyone, including Ashildr and Clara said, loudly, trailing off.

All of the lights in the walkway turned off, eliciting gasps from a few people around them. It was pitch black until the white screens started back up again with several short flashes, like a strip light turning on for the first time. Ashildr felt very uncomfortable.

"One," the loudspeaker announcement said. "Welcome to Black Friday! Everything inside TCM is now reduced by at least 50%. We have recorded a total of 765,213,461 visitors, so you are all now part of the biggest Black Friday every recorded. Thank you for visiting and... have a nice day!"

There was a spontaneous round of applause and a large cheer echoing all around. The air then buzzed with excited chatter and it immediately felt like five times the amount of people had appeared inside the walkway. Ashildr quickly went to stand with Clara.

"This is oddly exciting, isn't it?" Clara said to her as she approached.

"I guess," said Ashildr not as impressed, unable to shake a sinking feeling inside the pit of her stomach.

"Now we shop," said Clara, eyes glinting. She pressed on through the walkway, stopping to purchase a few more outfits for them both until they took a right turn back towards the main boulevard, weaving through the incoming crowds.

Once outside, they ventured further along the street. A few minutes walk further down was a store fifty metres wide, and, in contrast to where they had just been, was relatively empty. Clara went inside, unsure of what it was selling, seeing over a hundred or so plain black rectangles rising from the ground to waist height. There were many people stood in front of the plinths, so she stepped towards the nearest empty one.

Clara sidled up to the longest side facing the rear of the store/ Ashildr was on her left on the short side.

"What does this do?" said Ashildr, noticing it was plain on top.

"I... have no idea," said Clara, searching for an on button or a slot.

Four white squares appeared on the top magically. There was a picture of a blue glove on the top left, a blue watch in the top right, a bracelet in the bottom left, and a ring in the bottom right.

Clara looked towards Ashildr, and they shrugged at each other, perplexed. Clara pressed the picture of the glove and the other three squares melted away as she removed her hand. Nothing happened.

"Any ideas?" said Clara.

Ashildr shook her head, looking down at the surface.

Clara went to press the remaining button again but saw her hand covered in a brown leather glove as she did. It surrounded her hand completely as she rotated her palm around and up towards her eye level. She put her other hand in front of her and saw both her hands wearing the gloves. It was very realistic, to the point of being able to feel the material on her hands subconsciously, and she was convinced there was a faint aroma of leather in the air. She waved her fingers around and smiled to herself.

"Wow," Clara said. "This is seriously impressive."

Ashildr put her hands above the table and had white ski gloves on. She balled her fists and the gloves moved to follow. The design of the gloves changed every thirty seconds or so.

Ashildr was inspecting a pair of black leather gloves. "What do you think of these?" she said to Clara.

"I like them," Clara said, before adding, "even if they are a bit murdery."

"Murdery?" Ashildr replied, confused.

"Yeah, murdery... if someone were to murder you they would be wearing gloves like that. Were you wearing gloves like that when you killed me?" she mused with a small smirk.

"I don't remember," said Ashildr, catching Clara's smile and knowing she was joking. "Hey..."

"If you want the murdery gloves, you can have them," Clara sighed. She had taken to a pair of deep red fitted gloves and was preparing to buy them.

"There will be a murder if you don't stop..." Ashildr started.

"Stop what?" Clara said, distracted, raising an eyebrow.

"You know what I mean," said Ashildr, flatly.

Clara pressed the buy button and scanned her hand. "It's the defining moment in our relationship, Me. Not easy to forget. Now do you want the gloves or not?"

"Yes," Ashildr said, not making eye contact. "At least then if do I feel the urge to kill you, again, at least I'll be able to accessorise."

Clara was unsure if Ashildr was being sarcastic or not, she creased her eyebrows back at her.

Ashildr pressed the button on the console to buy the gloves, smiling to herself.

Clara scanned her hand, narrowing her eyes. Ashildr went to press the button for gloves again and the other four buttons appeared. She selected the one for a watch, raising an eyebrow at Clara. She put her right hand above the plinth and saw a bright red watch surrounding her wrist.

"These are all beautiful," sighed Clara, unzipping her jacket cuff, rolling up the right sleeve to get a better view. "I like this one," she said as she admired an expensive looking rose coloured silver watch, immediately buying it. "£8000 for a watch! That's like five month's wages. Wow."

Twenty minutes and several expensive purchases later, they emerged back into the boulevard, smiling widely. Clara strolled towards a nearby subway to pass under the travelators and pod cylinders towards the outside edge, she looked up when they were halfway to see pods rushing above in both directions, distorting the view of the tree supports.

Ashildr noticed a shop in front of her as they ascended the handful of green marble stairs to the other side. The outer facia had a fifty foot tall large black silhouetted bust with a scarf around its neck. The scarf was phasing through different colours of the rainbow constantly. She went inside, intrigued and saw a grid of full length mirrors, identifying several empty spaces towards the back, sidling up to the nearest.

She was presented with another reflection of herself with four options to the right of her in a list. 'COLOUR', 'MATERIAL', 'LENGTH' and 'DESIGN'. She pressed the colour button and saw a black scarf magically appear around her neck, and a square colour palette displaying a myriad of options. She pressed a few colours, seeing it change, realising she was able to change the hue is any way possible. She noticed Clara four mirrors to her right scrolling through various options.

After a few minutes she had fashioned a dark green and black checked desert style scarf that she liked, shifting between two near on identical greens as she tried to catch Clara's attention. She scanned her tag and was grateful when Clara made her way over to purchase it for her.

"Completely customisable clothes," nodded Clara. "Just when I though this place couldn't get any better," she sighed. "I like that, by the way," she smiled at Ashildr, "do not be surprised if it goes missing."

They found similar shops for sunglasses, ties, hats and many more on the same side. Clara consulted the map after leaving one of the stores after they'd been shopping for roughly two hours. She took it from her left hand side pocket, folding it out four times. A couple stopped very close, hugged and snapped a picture of themselves smiling with a small flat piece of plastic and then continued on.

"I wonder if there is an option to search a store in here?" Clara said, pointing at the map.

"I don't know," said Ashildr, "what are you looking for?"

"I really want to replace my favourite jacket," she sighed. "I feel like we are in the right place-"

A loud sound echoed around the space, causing a hushed silence to descend across the crowds.

"What was that?" whispered Ashildr, instinctively looking towards the ceiling.

"I don't know," Clara mouthed quietly, moving close to Ashildr, all around she could see people standing still aiming their heads upwards. Clara could only assume it was something structural collapsing, judging by the volume and timbre of the sound, and considering where they were it was not reassuring.

After a few minutes of shocked silence, a faint buzz of chatter resumed as some shoppers began moving again. Clara stayed put, still gazing up. She folded up the map and put it inside her left pocket.

"What do you think that was?" Ashildr asked, inspecting the surroundings.

"I don't know but-" Clara started as the noise repeated, much louder and clearer this time. Everyone around turned in the direction it had come from, towards the Transmission area.

She instantly recognised the sound on a second listen without the background noise. It was a gunshot.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there has been quite an extensive preamble so far, so thank you for sticking with me!
> 
> The main problem/story/reason they are actually there/etc starts from here.
> 
> :-)

There were piercing screams in the distance, accompanied shortly after by man in a dark red suit and black dress shoes sprinting away from the direction of the noise, trying to fight his way past the crowds, barging past bodies obstructing him. A few seconds after shouts and screams carried through the air as more people began running in the same direction, until it became a tide swell of panicked shoppers trying to get away. Children were being held by their parents, crying. Some of the stronger men wrestled past women in the urge to get away.

Clara and Ashildr were caught up in the movement of bodies, unable to stay still as the crowd surged.

"Clara!" Ashildr shouted as they instantly became separated.

"Try and get to the outside edge," she heard Clara shout back faintly.

Ashildr was hemmed in by people on all sides, all taller than her, forcing her forward, now moving at a speed equivalent to a fast jog. She had no way of gauging where she was in relation to the edge as she could only see upwards. A large man wearing a purple polo neck sweater threw her out of the way in his pursuit, Ashildr lost her balance in Clara's shoes and fell on her side heavily to the floor.

She was trampled on by hundreds of shoes, instinctively protecting her head by covering it with her hands as she felt a high heel stab her in her neck, a large boot shatter her ribcage and another dislocate her knee out of place. It was relentless. She tried to crawl out of the mass of feet, towards the edge, orientating herself against the flow of people. She tried to get up but was forced to the floor each time she tried.

Both of her hands were continually crushed as people ran, there was no let up in the stream of people, a white trainer leant heavily on her elbow, a stiletto heel punctured her left forearm, through the jacket and shirt, causing the shoe to stay impaled in her as the owner carried on regardless. A large boot pressed down on her back as she continued crawling, puncturing her lung. She screamed in pain as someone stepped on her neck, breaking her windpipe. A man fell forwards onto her, being trampled above her.

Ashildr gave up crawling to make her frame as small as possible, curling up into a ball on her left side, protecting her head. She felt her injuries healing individually, taking the opportunity to remove the high heel from her arm. A desert shoe stepped onto her right thigh, the man attached to it unsteadily wobbled, managing to keep his balance as he ran forwards. She felt pain on her right hand, right ankle, thigh, hips, chest, stomach and shoulder. Once an injury healed she felt the area broken again as another shoe kicked, stepped or tripped over her.

Several people had fallen over her and now lay motionless, presumably unable to heal themselves. A teenage boy crashed heavily into her, just managing to stay upright. A four wheeled pushchair passed straight over her body, inches from her right eye.

The people running were mercifully beginning to thin out. Ashildr waited for her latest round of injuries to heal before even attempting to stand up. Once vertical she ran quickly to her right to the outside edge, pressing her back into a white screen, catching her breath.

Ashildr surveyed the scene around her. Aside from a few slower runners and some confused walkers, the boulevard was empty. There were bodies of men, women and children lying limply on the green floor tiles, a few had managed to raise themselves either to sit or stand, but most were contorted and glued to the ground. Ashildr estimated she could see at least one hundred people grounded in her eye line. Pods zoomed from left to right in the blink of an eye in the central reservation, the travelators were essentially empty, but still running.

Several of the white rectangular boxes that had provided Clara with water were now scouring through the bodies, offering assistance to those still alive. She scanned around the area, Clara was nowhere to be seen. She prayed Clara had not been forced to the floor, getting a sudden sinking feeling as she imagined the extent of injuries she could have sustained.

Ashildr heaved herself off the facia and moved along the edge in the direction they had been moving in, hoping she would meet Clara on the way. She visually looked through the endless peppering of lifeless bodies, after a few minutes seeing one who was dressed identically to Clara and immediately running over to look. A wave of shock ran through the pit of her stomach, "no, please don't be dead," she whispered to herself.

As she approached she sighed loudly with relief as she realised the facial features, hair and eye colour were different at closer inspection. It wasn't her, she checked for a pulse on the stranger, finding nothing. She got up to walk away, but then returned to close the stranger's eyes gently.

Ashildr returned to the edge of the boulevard and continued forward, brushing the dusty patches she could reach on her legs and the jacket, running her hands through her hair to straighten it out.

There was an odd vibration on her front left hip which made her jump. She put her hand on the area and dug out the phone Clara had given her from the pocket of her jeans. She looked down at the black screen, no longer pristine, several large cracks covering the length. It was making a loud rhythmic electronic beeping.

The screen said 'Clara' and had a green and a red circle below it. She assumed the green button was the one to press as it was the universal sign for go. Ashildr pushed it and saw Clara's face fill the screen from the neck up.

"Oh my god," Clara said, breathing hard, she was very flushed, the image wouldn't stay still. "Where are you?"

Ashildr wasn't sure what to do, so she talked at the screen as if they were having a conversation. "Are you OK? Are you hurt?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she said, catching her breath, "feel like I've just done the Great North Run," she laughed quickly, the screen juddered, "but besides that I am fine. What happened to you?"

"I got trampled on," Ashildr replied curtly.

"What the hell?" Clara said, instantly concerned. "Are you OK?"

"Besides breaking every bone in my body, I'm one of the lucky ones," Ashildr said, subdued, "there are a lot of dead bodies here, I thought you were one of these people."

"Let me see," said Clara, the image was stabilising now.

"How?" Ashildr said.

"Point the screen towards it," Clara said.

Ashildr carefully did as she asked.

"My god," said Clara's voice. "Forget what I said earlier, Me. I am going to stop this. We... are going to stop this."

Ashildr pointed the phone back to her, "where are you?"

"Not sure, I must be a lot further ahead of you," Clara said. "Where does your map say you are?"

Ashildr reached into her left pocket and pulled it out, she saw the red square dented slightly. She unfolded it with one hand, stabilising it against the front of her jacket, it flickered intermittently. The white pulsing dot had a number next to it. "I'm apparently at C784. Where are you?"

"OK, I'm at C791, can you see that?" Clara said, looking off camera.

"Yes, how long were you running for?!" she observed with surprise.

"Well, that is one of my special skills," Clara replied quickly, "I've had a lot of practice."

"So, have you got any idea what's going on?" Ashildr asked.

"There was definitely a gunshot before all the people started running away," Clara said, aiming her eyes upwards. "Apart from that I've got nothing yet, although that amount of people all running away at the same time is usually a sign something bad is happening."

"I heard that too," nodded Ashildr at Clara's basic reasoning skills.

"I'll retrace my steps. Keep moving, feel like we need to stick together right now," said Clara.

"Yeah," said Ashildr.

"So here is the plan," Clara said, "let's meet up, find out what is going on, fix it and then get the hell out of here."

"Agreed," she nodded.

"Keep moving Me," Clara nodded.

Clara hung up the phone suddenly, Ashildr saw the screen go black. She replaced the handset into her front left pocket and walked quickly forward, trying to avert her eyes from the increasing number of twisted forms lying lifelessly on the floor.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I'm really enjoying this one!
> 
> This has got to be one of my favourite chapters that I've written in anything so far, kind of sets the tone for the rest of the story.
> 
> Enjoy!

Ashildr noticed the amount of people beginning to thin out as she progressed down the boulevard for roughly thirty minutes. She was paying no attention to the shops and distractions around her, intent on finding Clara, having long lost the ability to feel grief for the dead, anyone she had ever known or been with had befitted the same ending. She shook herself out of her own thoughts, staring at the chequered green floor tiles, as she paced forward.

"Me!" said a familiar voice in front, "what have I told you about wandering off?"

Ashildr looked up to see Clara walking directly into her, smiling slightly. Clara touched her on the shoulder, half hugging and lowered her head to see Ashildr's eyes. She noticed the puncture mark on her left forearm.

"I suppose we're lucky it was me that got trampled on, eh?" Ashildr said blankly.

"Yeah. I bet that was not nice," Clara said, looking at her, and then down to her forearm. She inspected the hole in the blue jacket with her fingers, sighing.

"No it was not," Ashildr replied blankly. "I'll live, I always do."

"We need to find out what is going on here, it should be, like, one hundred years before anything remotely interesting-"

A loud announcement silenced them. The few people that were still walking stopped to listen.

"An emergency has been declared," a voice boomed, "all visitors are required to make their way to the nearest exit for Transmission to the main entrance and then to the car park levels." It was loud enough to make Ashildr and Clara both cover their ears with their coat sleeves. The twinkling advertising boards that covered the inner side of the boulevard turned off suddenly, leaving a dull grey continuous strip of emptiness in its wake.

"An emergency has been declared, all visitors are required to make their way to the nearest exit for Transmission to the main entrance and then to the car park levels," it repeated on a loop.

The announcement was so loud it made Clara feel a little dizzy. Large green arrows appeared on the floor, directing them to the entrance of the nearest travelator fifty metres away. Still covering her ears at the constant announcements, Clara indicated with her eyes and shoulders for Ashildr to follow her, heading in the direction they were being pointed along with most of the others around them.

Clara approached the start of the travelator, initially hesitant as she had seen the speed earlier, putting her left foot onto the walkway, immediately finding herself being pulled forward like she was on a rollercoaster. Within thirty seconds she was thrown off, having to break into a small jog to stay upright.

"An emergency has been declared, all visitors are required to make their way to the nearest exit for Transmission to the main entrance and then to the car park levels," The announcements continued at the same volume. There were more people heading in the same direction, doing as instructed.

Ashildr appeared after a few moments, just about keeping her balance as well. The green arrows were pointing to the right and then along to the nearest subway on the left a little further down. The announcements stopped suddenly. Clara looked around before removing her hands from her ears, grateful for the silence, but not for the electronic feedback style noise now ringing in her brain. She shook her head to try and suppress the noise.

A static hiss played loudly as they made their way towards the steps. An image appeared on the advertising boards to their left that caught Clara's eye, making her stop still. The same image repeated over and over again to the left and right. Clara pulled Ashildr to her right by her jacket sleeve out of the way of the flow of people behind them and directed her shoulders to look at the screens. A few others had done the same.

There were four silhouettes presented on the screen, on a grey background. It seemed as though it was being filmed on a handheld camera as the image was grainy and unsteady.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a male English voice boomed, it appeared to be coming from the figure on the left, still in the shadows, "please may we have your attention... we have an announcement." The voice was distorted, reverberating in some of the lower notes.

More people had stopped to look up at the boards as they filtered from either side of the boulevard.

"Thirty minutes ago, this video was filmed in the TCM," he said, as the screen changed to similar grainy footage of a crowd of people. It showed a tall thin man in a black suit, white shirt sitting on one of the white benches. He had a large nose, slicked back jet black hair and a sneering expression across his face. There was a black leather bag sat on the floor between his legs, he unzipped the side pocket from which he retrieved a pair of black leather gloves. He put them on slowly, interlocking his fingers to settle the gloves properly. A few seconds later he went into the bag, opening the main compartment and retrieved a sawn off shot gun. He held it up and narrowed his eyes. There was a hum and chatter of shoppers in the background.

There were gasps and screams amongst the crowds that were gathering to watch the video. Ashildr saw a woman nearby hold her hand in front of a child's eyes. Many people had their hands over their mouths in shock. Clara glanced towards her briefly, making eye contact with her, before turning her attention back to the screens. Older children were crying around them.

The man checked the cartridges inside and then snapped the case back into position. He rested the gun on his knees and plucked out a small vial of translucent purple liquid from the bag. He stood up on the bench, held the shot gun above his head and fired it loudly into the air.

On the video people stopped, not knowing what was happening, searching for the source of the noise. A few people spotted the man with the gun and began backing away. He popped the plastic top off the vial and drank it all in one go, throwing it to the ground where is resonated on the floor tiles with a small clink.

He smiled as he held the gun aloft again, rotating it towards his own chest. He took a deep breath and shot himself at point blank range, leaving blood spattered on the glass pod tubes twenty feet behind. He collapsed backwards towards the travelator, falling onto the handrail, ending up being hauled quickly away to his right, out of view.

"What the hell is that all about?" said Clara, underneath her breath.

Ashildr had a niggling feeling about something, but couldn't quite place it.

The screen returned to the four silhouettes. "This man has sacrificed himself for us. He is infected with a highly dangerous contagion. Within twenty four hours every single person within the TCM will be infected, unless our demands are met."

The man on the left stepped into the light. He had grey hair and was wearing a beige trench coat. The next figure came forward. Ashildr recognised her as the woman who had replaced Tim's hologram in the information point and in the store. "We are the Anti-Greed Alliance-"

"The what?" Clara said, still looking to the screen, before pausing, trying to stifle a small laugh, "Did they say... Anti-Greed Alliance? Ok, then."

"-and the TCM is now under our control. We are demanding eight hundred trillion Tricadia Credits in order to administer the antidote," said the woman. She spoke with a harsh American accent, her lips curling into a smirk, and what seemed a permanently raised eyebrow. Her green eyes pierced through the screen as they had done earlier, as if she was aiming laser beams out. "That's only one million credits per person," she sneered, "if it was paid now."

There were gasps and angry shouts around the watching crowd. Clara mentally worked out that it was about £200,000 each.

A teenager appeared from the third silhouette. He was about fifteen, had a face scarred by acne, cropped brown hair. He was wearing thick rimmed square black glasses, a grey hooded top and was wearing some sort of backpack. "The virus has already been released, so now," he spoke with a harsh, just broken through puberty voice, with a non-identifiable accent, he checked the watch on his left wrist, "there are," he inhaled loudly, "just over twenty two hours to organise the money." The right side of his mouth smiled. "And the more people that get infected the more that means per person." He laughed until the woman glared at him.

The fourth figure stepped out of the shadows, Clara and Ashildr both gasped and turned to look at each other.

"No, no way," said Clara. "There's eight hundred million people in here-"

"How is that possible?" said Ashildr, nervously looking back up to the boards.

"If we do not received the money," said a well built bald man, wearing a silver and green padded jacket, sneering in a Russian accent, "we will detonate both of the nuclear reactors," he laughed loudly. "And no use trying to escape, we have sealed off the main exit-"

"Of course," Clara reflected to herself, sighing.

"-there is no way in or out unless we get all of the money. Or everybody dies." He sneered at the screen.

"So, customers of the TCM," said the grey haired man, "it's time to pay up, get infected or die. It's your choice."

There were screams and terrified gasps around Clara and Ashildr. Several people started running off in various directions like headless chickens. The mood in the area had changed to an air of panic.

The teenager pointed at the middle of the screen. "This counter is going to show how much money we have collected," a graphic appeared on the screen at the bottom, "if you wish to pay, please make your way to the nearest payment point, I have modified them to take money. Just scan your tag and pay, just like you have been doing to purchase all of your goods." He grinned greedily at the screen, "and hope that everyone else in here does the same before they are infected. Or at midnight we will detonate both the nuclear reactors."

The image fuzzed away, the counter from the bottom increased in size to run across the middle of the screen. There was a movement of people away from them, upset chatter and the noise of many footprints. Some people were running, others having discussions with family members.

Ashildr looked at Clara open mouthed. "So what we do now? Do you have a plan?"

"No," Clara said, shaking her head. "No I don't. I have no idea what to do."

"Well, that's all very reassuring," Ashildr said sarcastically.

"Do you have a plan?" said Clara, annoyed, folding her arms. "Because if you do, I'd love to hear it."

"No... I don't," said Ashildr, shaking her head.

"Well, good, so we've somehow managed to turn up on the exact day this place gets blown up. But hang on," she took a few paces away and then turned back, hands on her hips, "we should be one hundred years too early for all of this. Seems unlikely this would be a separate event."

"Yeah," agreed Ashildr.

"You definitely said 3200 something, didn't you?" Clara asked her.

"That's what the guidebook said," said Ashildr, nodding, "definitely 32nd Century."

"What?" snapped Clara.

"Like I said, 32nd Century," Ashildr repeated.

"Oh for god's sake, Me," Clara said loudly.

"What?" said Ashildr, confused.

"You said 3200 something, the 32nd Century is right now," Clara exclaimed, "so, great," she said sarcastically, "yes, we have turned up on the exact day," she sighed resignedly. "This was supposed to be a day out doing a bit of shopping, a first trip, not some sort of exercise in saving almost eight hundred million people from a poorly named non-mysterious alliance," she paused for breath, "in the middle of space... with a highly dangerous infection released. Where there is not one but, oh yeah..." she paused increasing the volume, "two nuclear reactors. Well done, excellent work." She narrowed her eyes and folded her arms.

"Well, I definitely said 32nd Century," said Ashildr, standing her ground.

"Err, no you didn't," retorted Clara, putting a hand to her head. "I cannot believe-" she started angrily before being interrupted by a booming voice coming from the advertising screens. The bar had filled slightly from when she had last looked at it.

"People of the TCM," the man with the grey hair appeared on his own. "We have a separate announcement."

"Err, yes I did," Ashildr got in quickly, mimicking Clara, unwilling to let her have the upper hand in the argument.

"We are also trying to trace the owner of these," the grey haired man held up a pair of black sunglasses to the screen.

"Oh, no, no, no," said Clara quietly as she instinctively felt into her right hand pocket, finding only the psychic paper. She dropped her head and inhaled loudly, checking the left to only find her TARDIS keys, the map and her phone. "Great," she said sarcastically under her breath.

"Please tell me that those sunglasses up there," Ashildr said quietly as she pointed to the screen, "are totally coincidentally identical to the ones that we have."

"If these are yours then please make your way to the P431 service entrance. It appears we have some business to discuss. Thank you." The image disappeared to leave the white counter on a black background.

"No they're not," said Clara, resigned, avoiding her gaze.

"Well done," smirked Ashildr sarcastically, enjoying the moment. "That... that is excellent work."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's that you say?
> 
> 800million people, a dangerous virus AND two nuclear reactors?
> 
> How on earth are Clara and Ashildr going to save everyone? Especially as they've lost the sunglasses...
> 
> :-)
> 
> Anyone got any theories?


	17. Chapter 17

"Shut up," said Clara, derisively, massaging her temples. "He must have taken them when we were in that queue. Maybe when he banged on the door?"

"So this plan you don't have," Ashildr mused, trying to force back a smile, "I think you need to start making it."

"Ok, well," said Clara, "obviously the first thing we need to do is get the sunglasses back."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Ashildr asked.

"Well, they've given us somewhere to go," Clara said, looking up at the screen, "so maybe we should head there?"

Ashildr had already walked off away from her in the direction of the nearest bench, sitting down to open the red square map onto her knees. Clara followed her, sitting to her left. The small spinning image of the centre rotated above Ashildr's lap, it flickered intermittently.

"Where did they say it was?" Ashildr asked, "P431?"

"Oh so now you remember the details?" Clara said pointedly. "Why is your map flashing?"

"It was a barrier between my pelvis and someone's shoe earlier," Ashildr replied deadpan.

"Oh yeah," Clara registered before carrying on "right then, so we are here," she pointed at a pulsing white dot, "C827... where is P431?"

A red dot appeared on the map on the lower side, it was showing in the Pharmaceutical section, towards the large square Tim had mentioned earlier.

"And how do we get there?" asked Ashildr out loud.

The map directed them to the nearest Transmission point, in the direction they had been heading before they had stopped to watch the screens. There was an increasing amount of people streaming the same way.

"Feels like a good idea to get away from here," said Clara, standing up, "we were pretty close to that gunshot, weren't we?"

Ashildr folded up the map and put it back into her left jacket pocket. She got up to join Clara in the flow of people heading to transmission. They approached the subway that took them below the pod tubes, having to wait to progress down the steps due to the amount of people. On Clara's right was a family of five, the smallest child being carried on the dad's neck. The mum held onto a child's hand on each side.

"What are we going to do?" said the mum, quietly.

"We go to the exit, they can't have sealed it off," he replied, "it's going to be ok darling."

"I bet they're giving out free meals in all the restaurants," said a black teenage girl to Ashildr's left, "they've got to. They can't leave us like animals for twenty four hours."

"I am not giving my money to that scum," said an older grey haired man with round glasses behind them. "If I have to fight my way out I will."

Clara glanced up towards the screens and saw that it read 134,761,112,687 TCC, it displayed 0.01%. They emerged out of the other side of the subway.

"I will be writing a strongly worded letter of complaint after this," said a middle aged ginger haired woman on the left next to Clara. "I'm entitled to compensation. For sure."

Clara noticed she was becoming separated from Ashildr, holding out a cautious hand to push her way past the middle aged woman to get next to her.

"Me, stay with me," said Clara.

"I'm trying to," said Ashildr, feeling hemmed in by people trying to go in the same direction. She managed to get her right hand onto Clara's jacket to pull herself towards her.

"We are agreed we are going to Pharmaceuticals, right?" said Clara, to Ashildr, grabbing hold of Ashildr's left sleeve.

"Agreed," said Ashildr, loud enough to be heard above the increasing frantic chatter as more people joined the crowd to enter the outgoing transmission area, even though they were still at least one hundred metres from leaving the boulevard. There were numerous people emerging from the incoming area, but it was now almost completely obscured by the pack of people trying to leave.

A red haired man pushed through the middle of Clara and Ashildr, causing them to lose contact, he had a terrified pale look ingrained on his face. He fought his way through the crowd, not towards the transmission area but to continue along the boulevard. The density of people immediately filled the gap between them and Clara found herself six feet from Ashildr, and then suddenly unable to see her diminutive figure amongst the bodies.

Clara found herself in a crush of thousands of people moving steadily forward, unable to move any part of her body apart from the waist down, almost to the point of feeling pressure on her ribs. She noticed a small boy near her right leg, fighting to hold on to his parent's hand in the swell of people. Clara was surrounded by people who were all at least two feet higher than her, making her feel even more uncomfortable. She cursed her height.

She heard a commotion behind her, turning her head to face it, along with the hundred or so people within a twelve foot radius. A man in front almost elbowed her in the eye as he swivelled his body, she deftly moved out of the way just in time. She was unable to see anything, but heard loud screams behind as the crowd unexpectedly surged forward a few seconds after. Clara was beginning to approach the inside of the transmission area, she could see the thirty foot ceiling in her eye line. She faced forward to try and keep her balance in the almost suffocating pack of bodies.

There were several piercing screams behind, Clara was unable to look backwards, but caught something large moving above her about twenty feet to the right. It was unmistakably the shape of a body of a woman, wearing a purple suit, travelling through the air. Clara's eyes followed its parabola along with everyone else that had noticed. The body hit the video screen above the ceiling to the transmission area flat on its back with a large cracking noise, accompanied by the swell of people surging forward again. The shape crumpled in half, many bones broken and then dropped straight to the ground, directly onto the people below.

Terrified screaming, shouting, gasps accompanied the descent, along with a break in the crowd to facilitate the body hitting the ground heavily. Clara was pushed violently from the right, catching a stray elbow heavily on her shoulder. She just about managed to stay stood up on her left foot, the crowd stabilised itself, continuing in its pursuit forwards.

Another figure was thrown over the crowd, further away this time, a man completely in black, spinning like a Frisbee, to a loud crunching noise that Clara didn't see as the ceiling obscured her vision at the exact time of impact. A few seconds later there was another suffocating surge forward. She estimated she must be fifty metres from the transmission booths.

Behind her she heard a handful more crashes and screams, but not feeling the impact on the crowd any longer. She was still surrounded by seven foot giants, unable to make out anything apart from the back of five heads and the ceiling above closing in.

Clara walked heavily into a barrier separating the queues for the booths, finding herself winded. She was forced to her left by an unhelpful shove from a man to her right. She was now in a tightly packed queue that was moving slowly forwards. She cast her eye across the crowd, thankfully not completely surrounded by tall men any more. She stood on tiptoes trying to see if she could pick out Ashildr in the swell of people, not able to see anything.

The queue moved forwards, still packed in tightly, the sound of the doors swooshing open was becoming apparent up ahead. Clara craned her head around the queue of people to see there were about thirty others in front of her. Behind there were loud shouts, Clara gazed backwards to see shapes intermittently been thrown directly upwards towards the ceiling about fifty metres behind, collapsing heavily back to the ground. It appeared to be from two separate sides of the crowd now, as two bodies were heaved up simultaneously. She nervously looked forward, desperately willing the queue to move.

She was now twenty people from the front, facing backwards, unable to take her eyes off the crowd behind. It was beginning to thin out somewhat. She saw heads being moved sideways, people being pushed, bodies being thrown up to the ceiling still. It appeared to be coming from three different places now. A body in a dark blue jacket with flailing arms and legs was thrown from the right over about fifteen queues landing to her left out of her vision. Clara and the three people either side of her instinctively tried to move backwards, ending up grabbing onto jackets and sleeves.

Ten people to go, she pointed forward, trying to ignore the chaos that was happening behind her. She felt a large pressure on her back, pushing her forwards. She apologised to a woman in a bright blue coat in front of her as it happened again. A body landed heavily on the barrier two queues to the left, causing the people to part and avoid it.

There were five people in front of her now. Another person was thrown directly overhead from the left, landing on the roof of one of the booths to the right. Three people to go, Clara stole a glance behind, immediately regretting the decision as she saw at least five bodies travelling through the air. She looked back to see the woman in the blue coat the next in the queue.

A man from behind fought his way roughly in front of Clara, throwing the woman in front to the ground heavily and threading himself into the door just as it opened.

"Do you mind?" shouted Clara loudly, offering a hand out to the fallen woman to her left, helping her up. "Here," she said, smiling.

"Thank you," the woman said, as the door opened and she slipped inside. Clara waited anxiously as the door swung shut, the seconds painfully ticking by as she stood just in front of where it would open.

The metal door swooshed open, revealing a completely red room, it seemed to take an age to begin to close. When it did, there were several shouts outside as it was prevented from closing as a mottled purple right hand lying on the floor. Clara tried to kick the hand out of the way, until it grabbed tightly around her right ankle. She eventually managed to wrestle herself free of the hand's grip by anchoring herself against the door. She was about stamp on the hand when it retracted, leaving the door to close tightly.

'Please scan your tag,' boomed the voice above. Clara quickly put her right hand in the hole to her left.

'Thank you. Please state your destination.'

"Pharmaceuticals!" shouted Clara, out of breath, looking back towards the door as there were heavy bangs outside.

'Thank you. Please remove your tag. Please enter transmission area.'

Clara made a quick run for it into the small white corridor, immediately feeling she was falling quickly backwards, her internal organs being pulled out of her stomach, and then suddenly like she had been kicked hard between her shoulder blades. The force caused her to run fast, she collapsed on the marble floor on the other side, unable to keep her balance.


	18. Chapter 18

Clara tried to get herself up, finding it difficult. A panicked woman appeared behind, managing to spot Clara in enough time to essentially hurdle over her. Clara heaved herself up, walking unsteadily to the end of the queue, leaning against the same wall she had done earlier when she had been sick. She wasn’t feeling nauseous this time, just exhausted and dizzy. 

This area was largely empty, the odd person exiting, running along the queue. She felt thirsty, pacing unsteadily to the water machine, scanning her tag. It dropped a pouch into her hand softly, she put it into her mouth and felt the water dissolve on her tongue. She couldn’t see Ashildr anywhere. It was quiet enough to wait here without obstructing anyone, so she leaned up against a nearby wall to catch her breath. 

Ten minutes went by, there was still no sign of Ashildr. Clara got her phone out of her pocket and contemplated trying to ring her when Ashildr emerged limping, quickly running towards the wall at the end about ten feet in front. The right shoulder of her jacket was torn at the seam, exposing the red checked shirt below, Clara noticed her right knee exposed through a rip in the jeans. Her hair was messy and she had large patches of dust all over her. She leant over the wall and vomited loudly as she herself had done earlier. 

Clara went to go to her, but stopped, grimacing when she realised she was being sick. Ashildr raised her head, the colour returning slowly to her face, she walked slowly towards the water machine, without limping now. Ashildr spotted Clara, acknowledging her with eye contact, but not stopping in her pursuit of refreshment. 

Clara waited for her to emerge away from the machine, eventually seeing her bedraggled form walk over. 

“What the hell happened to you?” Clara asked as she approached. “I’ll be glad when you have your own clothes to ruin.” She inspected the damage to the right shoulder of her jacket with her fingers, sighing. 

“Someone... something, picked me up and threw me over the crowd,” said Ashildr. 

“I have never been so glad to get out of somewhere in my life,” said Clara. 

“Tell me about it, it was chaos over there!” remarked Ashildr, breathing out. 

“You wanted an adventure, didn’t you? Well, I think we’ve found one,” Clara said. She was feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement pumping through her body, but it was tinged with sadness. 

“Yeah,” said Ashildr. “Is it always like this?” 

“Yes,” Clara, smiled weakly, patting her on the shoulder and heading towards the boulevard. 

“So what are we going to do?” said Ashildr. “We are going to sort all this out, right?” 

They emerged out to see it much darker than it had been when they entered, the boulevard was the same, but long shadows were cast from the tree supports. The green marble chequered floor was full of people sat down, strangers weaving their way through the spaces. A few of the white boxes were moving through, there was one near a bench with a holographic Tim popping up from the top. The only illumination in the area was coming from the front of nearby stores, shining bright white, highlighting the faces of those nearest the edges. 

“Have all the lights been turned off?” asked Ashildr, staring to the sky. “Seems awfully dark?” 

“I don’t know,” said Clara, “we are on the other side, though, aren’t we? The... dark side?” Clara pulled the red square map out from her left pocket once they were a distance from the transmission area, brushing a small patch of dust off the elbow of her black leather jacket. She looked up to the advertising screens to see 945,554,378,345TCC had been collected, a meagre 0.12%. The purple bar barely even registered on the ‘DONATIONS’ scale. “Almost 100,000 people have paid up already,” Clara noted, pointing at the screen. The time was being displayed in the top right hand corner, it read 02.42am. Above the counter there was now another number labelled ‘INFECTED’, counting up slowly, it said 122, ticking up to 124 as Clara watched. 

“At the very least they appear to keeping us well informed of their progress,” said Ashildr, half joking. 

“Yeah, they are, aren’t they?” Clara agreed. She unfolded the map, looking for P431, seeing it ten minute’s walk to the right, on the inner track of the boulevard. Clara aimed herself in that direction, the travelators to her left, people zooming past, the pods moving past at breakneck speed through the tubes every couple of seconds. She went to move, away from Ashildr, took one pace and then turned around, putting her right index finger to her lips. 

“What’s the matter?” asked Ashildr. 

“We need to brainstorm,” Clara pondered, “before we go to meet the boss. If we do that, we can formulate a plan.” Her eyes had begin to light up again, “as I am new to all of this, doing it on my own, let’s establish the facts. Last time we kind of knew what was happening as Bonnie very helpfully told you before you met me.” 

“Ok,” said Ashildr, “so what do we know?” 

“So we’ve got,” Clara paused, trying to liken the people she’d seen to celebrities, “Jeremy Paxman, Taylor Swift, Harry Potter and Russian Bruce Willis who are part of the,” she sniggered slightly, “Anti-Greed Alliance. No debates about what they stand for.” 

“I don’t know any of those people,” said Ashildr, as an aside. 

“Neither do I, but I bet that would be some house party,” she smirked. “The guy in the black suit drinks a purple liquid before shooting himself. Why?” 

Ashildr thought for a moment. “Purple is the colour of death.” 

“Is it?” Clara said. “I thought that was black?” 

“I'm sure someone told me that once,” Ashildr replied. “Thinking about it, it might have been the Doctor.” 

“I thought you didn’t remember being a Viking or when you killed me?” Clara said. 

“I think it was a separate time,” said Ashildr, “I remember seeing a purple beam of light hitting a hole in the sky. You definitely weren’t there.” 

“So when were you and the Doctor off having your own adventures?” said Clara, feeling a pang of jealousy surge inside her. 

“I really don’t remember,” said Ashildr, folding her arms and tilting her head. “Sometime between the Vikings and the Raven thing-” 

“The Raven thing?” Clara repeated loudly, hands on her hips. “Is that what we are calling it now?” 

“I don’t remember anything else,” said Ashildr, turning away, “I’d have noticed if you had been there. That’s all.” 

“Why?” Clara creased her eyebrows. “No offence but-” 

“You were his biggest weakness,” Ashildr said, away from her. “I take particular note of anyone’s weakness.” 

“Of course you do,” snapped Clara, sarcastically. “Well thanks to you, I’m not any more. What’s your weakness, Ashildr?” Clara used her real name on purpose, almost hissing as she got the words out. 

“Do not call me that,” said Ashildr, narrowing her eyes. 

Clara and Ashildr stared at each other angrily for thirty seconds, not blinking, arms folded, both not wanting to be the first to speak. Ashildr shook her head as raised her eyebrow she looked into Clara’s deep brown eyes. 

“Well, clearly I’m going to have to be the adult here,” said Clara loudly, maintaining eye contact with Ashildr's cold grey stare, left arm still across her chest, pointing with an open hand on her right, in the same way she would tell children off at school. “We appear to be getting off topic-” 

“Whatever,” said Ashildr, cutting her off, turning her back on Clara. 

“Don’t you... Fine, well, you know what?” said Clara loudly, pacing around to stand in front of her, hands on her hips. 

“What?” Ashildr said, eyes narrowed. 

“Do it yourself!” shouted Clara, holding up her hands, putting them down inside her pockets, storming off in the direction of the service entrance, every footstep pressing into the ground heavily with a thud. 

Ashildr continued staring into the distance in the opposite direction, arms still folded. After a minute she turned around to look, not able to see Clara anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do love a bit of storming off ;-)
> 
> "The Raven thing? Is that what we are calling it now?" 
> 
> This makes me laugh out loud every time I read it as I can totally see Clara saying that with her hands on her hips.
> 
> Haha.


	19. Chapter 19

Ashildr fully expected Clara to be waiting behind, putting the outburst down to her being melodramatic, feeling a wave of panic wash over as she realised Clara had actually abandoned her. She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow, more than a little impressed she had had the nerve to walk away. She went in the direction Clara had gone, looking for the marker for P431. 

She weaved her way through people sat on the floor, families and couples trying to stick together. The lights from the shop fronts were becoming nauseating, blinding her right eye as the opposite side of the boulevard was obscured by the pod tubes and the tree supports. The stores were all still open, people were milling around inside oblivious to the chaos ensuing elsewhere in the centre. 

Ashildr accidentally stepped on the outstretched fingers of a man reclining on the floor, he swore at her as she just about kept her balance. Her feet were beginning to ache from the shoes being too big for her. 

There was a large queue up ahead, stretching perpendicularly along the boulevard, laden with people. Ashildr looked above where it snaked under the ceiling, seeing the words ‘PAYMENT POINT’ in large red translucent letters. She contemplated finding the end of the queue, instead deciding to push her way through directly ahead as she fancied moving a few innocent bystanders out of her way. 

It took her several minutes to barge past about fifty people to the other side, treading on toes heavily, pushing shoulders and arms out of the way roughly. She emerged to see an almost empty boulevard, save for a few distracted shoppers looking in doorways. She pulled her map out of her right jacket pocket, unfolding the dented red square. P431 was two markers away ahead of her, the map flickered intermittently as she read it. Ashildr snapped the map closed and continued. 

In a few minutes she saw a large group congregating near the entrance to one of the subways, estimating one hundred people stood around a black man standing on one of the benches. He stood four feet higher than everyone, wearing a white t-shirt and a camouflage vest jacket, he held aloft a machine gun in his right hand as he shouted. 

“We shall not be dictated to!” he roared to approval from the people watching. “We will not give them our money! We will not go down with a fight!” The crowd shouted loudly, many putting their fists in the air in agreement, there were several other people holding a variety of weapons, poles, shotguns, rakes, knives and a machete. She smiled to herself, if she couldn’t find Clara, she would unquestionably be joining a group like this. 

Ashildr continued on, hearing the man incensing the crowd further. She heard many footsteps mobilising behind, seeing the bulk of people disappearing into the subway to the other side of the boulevard. 

A silver marking on four floor tiles about fifty metres later indicated she had reached P431, the sign above said ‘SERVICE AREA’. There were several groups of people huddled around the area, presumably finding their way either by accident or curious to see where the saboteurs were hiding out. Ashildr scanned the faces, looking for Clara, coming up with nothing. She really had abandoned her. 

A young blonde man in a light green suit approached a large door in front of her. He scanned his hand in a small hole next to the door, pushing it with all of his strength once that was complete. He banged his head on the square window of the door. 

“Please let me in,” he aimed at the ceiling in an Australian accent, walking away, “if you let me out I can give you a substantial amount of credits, look me up on your records, Francis Grenello, I’d be very useful to you.” He returned to push the door one more time, before pacing back to the boulevard. Ashildr had another scout nearby for Clara, seeing nothing, presuming she must have gone in already after she stormed off. She took a deep breath and approached the door, the top towering six feet higher than her. She stood on tiptoes to peer through the square glass panel, inside was a light illuminating a six foot section of floor and then darkness. 

Ashildr nodded to herself, putting her hand nervously inside the scanner, watching the laser beams fall across the increasingly dog eared fake skin panel on her right hand. 

“No!” came a muffled shout from behind her. 

The outer door opened horizontally and then another layer opened vertically. She put a foot over the threshold when she turned to see at least fifty people sprinting in her direction, including Clara. 

“No, Me!” shouted Clara almost near her, “what are you doing?!” Five or six people were trying to fight past each other to get to the door. 

“I thought you were inside already!” said Ashildr loudly. 

Ashildr had both feet over the outline of the door in the floor, she reached with her right hand for Clara to try and pull her through, finding her feet stopped by the bottom edge rising quickly out of the ground. She got hold of Clara’s hand, gripping it to heave her through the rapidly decreasing space, anchoring one foot on the door panel, now at chest height. 

“Jump over,” Ashildr pleaded. The lower edge was now at chest height, Ashildr moved her foot down, seeing Clara’s arm completely on her side. The outer layer of the portal was now closing, leaving a decreasing square space that she knew Clara would not be able get through. “Why don’t you scan your hand once it closes?” shouted Ashildr, through the gap, still just about gripping her hand. 

Ashildr noticed the gap closing around Clara’s wrist, looking likely to amputate it, she jumped up, quickly forcing Clara’s hand out, leaving the door to seal around her own upper right arm, holding her two feet off the ground. The door shunted around her arm, gripping it tightly, Ashildr could feel affecting her circulation. She screamed in pain as it constricted further. 

She felt Clara let go of her the other side, she made a fist trying to loosen the grip. The door relentless tightened to the point she thought it could cut off her arm, and then suddenly released her for a second, enough time for her to snap her arm back and collapse heavily on the floor. Her arm had a huge dent in it, unnaturally bent out of shape, hanging limply on the floor, hand in a fist. She watched it heal, as if inflating, hearing the familiar crack as the bone repaired. 

Ashildr breathed out, lying on the floor, looking at her arm, clenching her fist tightly and waving her hand in front of her eyes, letting the pins and needles subside when she noticed a metal ring around her middle finger. She inspected it and saw a silver key attached, hanging down towards her palm. Ashildr pulled it off, holding it between her thumb and forefinger, wondering what it was for.


	20. Chapter 20

There was a faint thud from the outside. Ashildr heaved herself up, using the door to stabilise her right hand. She stood on tiptoes, peering through the glass to see Clara pounding her right fist on the panel, leaving a dark outline where her skin connected. Clara shouted something Ashildr couldn’t hear, instead she pointed to the back of her hand. There were a handful of other people standing behind her, all hammering on the door to get in. Clara shook her head tightly, her wide eyes transfixed towards Ashildr. Clara made a fist and put her thumb up to her right ear and her little finger towards her mouth before disappearing from view, putting something in her left pocket. 

Ashildr leant backwards against the wall next to the door, looking down at the green marble floor, when she felt a vibration in her front left pocket. She pulled out the phone to see Clara ringing her again. Ashildr pressed the green button and saw Clara’s face fill the screen as it had done earlier, she looked angry. She held the phone with her left hand. 

“Me,” Clara snapped, “why the hell have you gone in there?” 

“You stormed off, I couldn’t find you, I presumed you must have gone inside already,” Ashildr said, sitting down on the floor, expecting a vitriolic onslaught, but not getting one. 

“I tried to. The door wouldn’t open for me,” said Clara sighing, rubbing her head. “I’m sorry...” she groaned. “What are we going to do now?” 

“Why have they let me in?” Ashildr asked, grateful Clara had calmed down. 

“I don’t know,” said Clara, looking to her left, “Russian Bruce Willis stole the sunglasses from me, I have all the money... I’d have presumed it was me they’d want. Mind you, the Taylor Swift holograms were only attaching themselves to you, weren’t they?” 

“What’s this key you’ve given me?” said Ashildr, looking at the key in her right hand. 

“That’s a TARDIS key, I had two on this key ring,” said Clara, “only noticed on the way here. You seem to be in a better place than me to escape now. Please keep it safe.” 

Ashildr put the key into her front right trouser pocket, shuffling her hips back afterwards. “I saw people... umm... how did you put it? Tooling up? Was that what you said earlier?” said Ashildr. 

“Yeah, I think I saw what you mean, those people holding rakes and machetes, what is all of that all about?” Clara asked. “What sort of monster are we dealing with? This is what I was trying to establish earlier.” 

“You mean before you got jealous, tried to stare me out and stormed off?” Ashildr said smirking. “Very mature,” she said sarcastically. 

“This is not the time or place for another argument, Me, please save your smugness for once we’ve got the hell out of this sadistic shopping centre, I’m trying to gain information here,” said Clara, “OK?” 

“Ok,” nodded Ashildr, an eyebrow still slightly raised. She decided to let it go for now. 

“So what are we dealing with?” Clara asked. 

“They’re strong, whatever it was swept me aside and I ended up being flung over fifty feet,” Ashildr instinctively held her right shoulder, remembering it dislocating as she fell heavily on a queuing barrier, breaking the seam of Clara’s jacket. 

“I saw a purple mottled arm get trapped in a door, so it must be something to do with that liquid he drank before he killed himself, right?” said Clara. “The colour seems to be too much of a coincidence.” 

“Why did he have to kill himself? Surely they could have just poisoned any old person?” Ashildr mused. 

“Yeah, but they are saying he sacrificed himself, maybe he had to be dead for it to work?” Clara said, thinking out loud. 

“So we have some sort of virus only infecting dead people,” said Ashildr. “And we’ve got a whole load of dead people...” 

“People rising from the dead and attacking people, sounds a lot like...” her eyes twinkled slightly, “no way! You’ve got zombies on your first go. Now I am actually very jealous.” 

“Zombies, come on, they don’t exist,” said Ashildr, shaking her head. “Urban legend.” 

“Not only zombies, but zombies,” Clara smiled, pausing for effect, “in a shopping centre. Could we get any more clichéd! Seriously, what have they modelled their evil plan on? Dawn of the Dead?” She laughed out loud. 

“Eight hundred million potential...” pointed out Ashildr. “We are not calling them zombies. Zombies do not exist.” 

“3488 actual zombies at present according to the screen,” said Clara looking up. 

“How are they infecting each other?” said Ashildr. 

“I don’t know, but it’s infecting them very quickly, the counter’s now 3501 and rising,” said Clara. 

“How do they know how many people are infected?” asked Ashildr. “How are they counting?” 

“Hmm... interesting, I hadn’t considered that,” Clara brought her left knuckle up to her chin. “They seem to have taken a huge amount of biometric data when we got here. It took my inside leg measurement and dress size without me knowing, so god only knows what else they registered about me.” 

“Maybe they don’t know, maybe it’s some sort of count up?” said Ashildr, “Occam’s Razor.” 

“What’s that?” said Clara. 

“A mathematical theory that says the simplest explanation is usually correct,” said Ashildr, smugly, enjoying knowing something Clara did not. 

“Oh yeah,” nodded Clara. 

“So what’s our plan?” said Ashildr. 

“The plan right now,” Clara paused, “the plan, the plan, the... plan. You need to go and find out information from those people, they’ve obviously let you in for a reason. And I’m, well, I’m going to try and not get infected. I think that’s it for the moment,” she sighed, “I do feel your immortality is being underused not in the midst of a zombie attack. Why couldn’t you have got stuck out here?” 

“I would very gladly swap with you if I was able to... I bet you are regretting not having that sonic sledgehammer now, aren’t you?” Ashildr smirked. 

“Yeah, a little bit,” Clara let out a small laugh. 

Ashildr heard a loud noise further down the corridor to her right, she gazed into the darkness that started about six feet from her. “I’m hearing some very unsettling noises coming from further down this corridor,” said Ashildr, getting up to her feet quickly. She put her back against the door, unable to make anything out in the dim light. 

“What’s happening?” said Clara. 

Ashildr saw two dots of light at the end of the corridor, moving randomly, turning into beams of light as they got closer. Torches. “I need to go, got company,” she whispered, before pressing the red button and quietly slipping the handset back into her pocket. She looked around for somewhere to hide, seeing no way to avoid the torch lights. 

Two figures dressed from head to toe in black with machine guns slung around their shoulders stepped into the illuminated patch of the corridor, they were each holding a large torch. The only visible feature was the eyes and mouth, every other piece of skin was covered. They stopped four feet from Ashildr. 

“You will come with us,” said the figure on Ashildr’s left, shining his torch in her face, a gruff grunt of an accent. He was a foot taller than her. 

The figure on the right turned off the torch, stowing it in a pocket in the right hand side of a pair of black cargo trousers, picking up the gun and aiming it at Ashildr’s face. He was at least twelve inches shorter than the other figure. 

“Do I have a choice?” said Ashildr, holding up her hands in submission. 

The figure on the left moved behind Ashildr, pulling her hands down behind her back to tie them up with something solid. “No,” he snapped loudly. The voice was softer than the taller guard, it reminded her of someone. 

The taller guard shoved her forward into the dark corridor, walking in front of her, leaving the armed figure to follow behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so now the story is separating into two seperate threads, I have marked the chapters from this point with headings if you want to follow each thread individually. :-)


	21. Chapter 21 - Clara

Clara saw the screen go blank suddenly, immediately running towards the door to look through the window. She stood on tiptoes and saw two soldiers surrounding Ashildr, one pointing a gun and the other shining a torch directly at her. She saw the smaller guard behind Ashildr handcuff her roughly and prod a machine gun into her back. She watched as they practically threw Ashildr down the dark corridor out of view, noticing that the shorter guard turned to look back directly in her direction. He held his gaze for much longer than just a passing glance before disappearing into the shadows.

She turned away from the door a little unsettled, putting her phone into her right pocket, and paced back towards the boulevard. A tall young blonde man in a light green suit, light grey shirt and grey shoes approached her. She noticed he had a sparkling expensive looking silver watch on his left wrist.

"Do you know the woman that got in the door?" he said, in a strong Australian accent.

"No," said Clara, lying, trying to ignore him.

"I saw you put a key inside her hand," he said, proving she was lying. "You need to get me through that door," said the man, pointing, trying to obstruct Clara walking away. "I am a very influential man."

"I'm sure you are," Clara said sarcastically, pacing off towards the centre of the boulevard to plan her next move, "find me a man that isn't."

"My name is Francis Grenello," he said smugly, "you should know who I am."

"Umm, afraid not," said Clara, dismissively, trying to shake him off.

He folded his arms, unimpressed. "How do you not know who I am? The Grenello family, founders of TMG?"

"I'm really not from round here," she said, under her breath, leaving him stood behind her. "You do love a three letter acronym around these parts though, don't you?"

He ran to catch her up, walking quickly next to her, pointing backwards. "If you are in any way related to the woman that got inside then we should stick together, I could be good oil to you."

Clara groaned loudly, stopping. "I am really not interested, OK? Find someone else to harass." She had dealt with hundreds of men trying to get her attention, and was skilled in getting rid of them.

"Do you really not know?" he laughed, surprised. "TMG... The Marmor Group?"

Clara shook her head, pacing off again, "please... leave me alone."

"Ever wondered where they got all the marble from?" he said, still following her.

Clara slowed down ever so slightly. "Maybe," she said quietly.

"How's your Old Earth Latin?" he said. "The... Marmor... Group?"

"Marmor?" Clara said, thinking, allowing the TARDIS translation circuits to work. "What," she looked at him, curious, "marble?"

He nodded at her, flashing a perfect set of white teeth widely.

"So hang on, you're something to do with the frankly insane amount of marble that is in here?" she stopped, turning around to acknowledge him.

"My family helped to build this place," he looked up and around. "If I could just get in there..." he pointed back towards where Ashildr had gone through the door, "I could get us out."

"Really?" said Clara, raising an eyebrow.

"Really. We get into that service tunnel," he pointed with his left hand, flashing his expensive watch, "we're gone."

Clara folded her arms and thought for a moment. "OK," she said. "Seems as good an idea as any right now." She looked down at the floor, before sighing.

"So who is she?" he asked.

"That's Me," said Clara.

"No it's not, because you're here," he said, a puzzled expression covering his immaculately maintained eyebrows.

"No," Clara sighed, putting a hand to her head quickly, "it's not me, obviously. Her name's Ashildr, but she calls herself Me-"

"That's a bloody stupid name," he laughed.

"I know, right?" said Clara, nodding in agreement. "The sunglasses, they're actually mine, the Russian man stole them as we were coming in here."

"And who are you?" he asked.

"My name's Clara, but you can call me..." she paused, wanting to say 'The Doctor,' or the word she hadn't quite figured out yet, "oh, never mind, I'm Clara Oswald," she sighed.

He held out his right hand, displaying his shopping centre tattoo. "Well, g'day Clara, I'm Francis, pleased to meet you."

She shook his hand gently. "So what are you doing here?"

"I'm quoting for the next expansion, should have really left before midnight but decided to stay on, can't beat the atmosphere here on Black Friday," he said. "What about you?"

"We were just here buying some new clothes," said Clara, flatly. "Didn't even realise it was Black Friday. I mean grateful for the discounts and everything, but would have come yesterday if I knew this was about to happen," she smiled.

"So how do you know Sheila?" Francis asked.

Clara laughed. "Ashildr, a-shield-duh," she said phonetically. "Just call her Me."

"So how do you know Me?" said Francis.

"Well, we just met... by that door," she joked, pointing between herself and Francis.

"What are you? Sisters? Friends?" he smiled, looking her up and down, raising an eyebrow, "girlfriends?"

"We have quite a... complicated relationship," said Clara.

"Oh..." he said, smirking. "Like that is it?"

"No," said Clara, shaking her head and narrowing her eyes, "it's not... like anything. We're not related, not friends and definitely not seeing each other... although I did once tell a man I'd fight him for her, but we'll swerve around that issue for now. I'll give you the short version," she paused for breath, lilting her head between each point, "she tried to kill someone I know, I tried to save him, I died after she killed me and then I ended up coming back from the dead and somehow we've ended up travelling together..." she paused slowing down, "buying... clothes."

"And that's the short version? That is... complicated," he laughed. "Bloody oath!"

"Yeah, we really need to decide how we know each other..." said Clara, "do you think we could pass as sisters?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Totally," he pointed at his face, "similar eyebrows. She could easily be your younger sister."

"Thanks," she said sarcastically, crossing her arms. "But I am definitely the younger one, by," she cleared her throat, "quite a substantial margin." She half smirked.

"So what's the deal with the sunnies?" Francis asked, indicating his nose.

"The sunnies?" Clara asked, confused.

"The sunglasses," he clarified.

"Oh yeah, they are not just sunglasses," Clara said, "and I really need them back. They don't work for anyone apart from me," she paused, "and Me."

"What do they do? Why do they want them?" Francis asked.

"That I don't know, but trust me they're very useful in a situation like the one we've conveniently found ourselves in."

There were several muffled loud bangs in the direction Clara had come. She and Francis both turned to look backwards.

"That," said Clara, nervously, "or rather they were gunshots. We need to run."

"Or we could hide," said Francis, backing away. There were more shots, the repetitive sound of an automatic weapon and vague screams in the background.

"Hmmm, I hadn't considered that," Clara nodded, "I usually just follow the man running. Now I am the man running," she pondered. Clara became acutely aware that a large amount people were now running away from where the noise had come from.

"Whatever we are doing," Francis said, a look of fear creeping onto his face, "we need to do it now."


	22. Chapter 22 - Ashildr

Ashildr felt the gun pressing into her back as they walked down the darkened corridor. The man in front illuminated his way with the torch. She peered around him, noticing there was a source of light coming from the end. 

“Where are you taking me?” said Ashildr. “I have a right to know.” 

“No talking,” said the man in front gruffly, accompanied by a sharp prod in her back. She tripped over some sort of rail on the floor, just managing to keep her balance. 

“Who are you?” said Ashildr, testing them. She struggled against her restraints, considering whether it was the right time to deliberately break her wrists to slip out of them as she had done hundreds of times previously. She decided to wait until she was somewhere useful. 

“I said no talking,” he grunted in front of her. 

They were approaching an intersection that had strip lighting, it was nowhere near as opulent as the expansive space of the boulevard. The man in front clicked off his torch and stowed it in the right pocket of his trousers. He turned left and Ashildr saw a pod waiting for them, the cover open. 

“Get in,” the man behind said, standing aside to push Ashildr roughly to the rear left seat of the pod. She still couldn’t place the voice. The top of the glass missed her head by an inch as she fell into the seat, hands behind her back. The first man sat to her right and the figure with the gun sat on the opposite seat, effectively blocking any way of escape. 

“You can’t just put me in one of these things and not say where we are going,” said Ashildr. 

“No talking!” the taller guard grunted loudly as the rounded square cover closed and sealed with the red laser style light. 

Ashildr tried to sit back in her chair, but was unable to lean back due to her restraints. “Can you at least undo these things so I can sit properly?” she said. 

“No,” grunted the man next to her. 

She stood up slightly and managed to hook her arms around the rear of the white seat, allowing her back to rest flush against it. 

“Please scan your tag,” boomed the mechanical voice. The black scanner appeared out of the table in front and the man next to her removed a skin coloured patch from a pocket on his left forearm. He held it underneath the scanner and then returned it to the pouch, pulling the zip on the pocket closed. 

“Fastening seatbelts,” said the voice as the solid metal bar went across her lap with a loud clank. The man opposite moved the gun out of the way of the strap and it made a resounding tap against the glass wall, glaring at Ashildr with piercing grey eyes. The hatch closed, sealing them all inside. 

“Preparing for transportation to west operations centre, please hold on,” the pod said. 

“Operations centre?” said Ashildr, “sounds... useful.” She struggled against the restraints again. 

“Shut it,” said the man next to her, striking powerfully on the right hand side of her stomach, winding her. She let out a small yelp as his fist impacted, unable to recoil as her arms were pinned behind her. 

The man opposite looked away, folding his arms across his chest, holding onto his shoulders. The pod shifted, Ashildr noticed she was travelling forwards this time, clunking slowly towards a dark area. It dropped a couple of inches after a couple of minutes, and then reverted to slowly creeping forward. It jerked to a halt suddenly in complete darkness, the tabletop screen was disabled. 

A silence hung in the air until the pod slowly moved to the left, accelerating quickly, pulling all of Ashildr’s organs to the right, she dropped her head against the sensation, feeling the vision in her left eye becoming blurred as various lights flashed past the outside. She felt a piercing headache in her left temple as the pod increased in speed towards the destination. 

The journey seemed to last longer than it should have, until they came to an instantaneous stop, causing her left shoulder to almost dislocate with the force. She was out of breath, almost blind in her left eye for a few seconds until she shook her head and the vision slowly returned as her blood settled. The man opposite was breathing heavily, head at chest level, the man next to her had his arms folded, apparently unaffected. 

The pod started moving backwards, Ashildr tried to turn her head to see but was unable to without snapping a muscle in her neck. After a minute the pod jumped up a few inches and then came to a juddering stop. 

“Unfastening seatbelts,” the pod boomed, hatch opening before the white straps released with a loud hiss and a clunk. The man to her right stepped onto an illuminated black platform as the guard opposite shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. They both moved outside. 

“Out!” shouted the first man, as the second man retrained the gun between Ashildr’s eyes. She tried to move, finding it difficult with her arms pinned back, eventually freeing herself off the seat and able to slowly edge to the opening with small taps on the glass below. 

Ashildr found herself in a lit up completely black corridor, lights dotted every metre on the floor and ceiling. The men assumed their earlier positions as Ashildr was lead through the small corridor. It descended slowly until they reached a heavy door that would not have been out of place in a bank vault. 

The man approached a panel next to the door. Ashildr was unable to see how it worked as his body obscured his actions. The vault door had a large silver wheel on the front, which the man leading rotated easily to the right several times, causing it to make a small hiss and swing inwards. 

The gun prodded into her back as she was shoved forwards. She was met with a large cylindrical room with a black ceiling. She estimated it was one hundred feet high, with video feeds covering every surface of the walls. There was a large central column made out of black scaffolding, housing a few sparse people sat at desks, each monitoring a large section of video screens. 

On the ground level there was a large elliptical table on a raised platform with four figures stood around in a hushed discussion. Ashildr spotted the sunglasses folded up on the table, along with many blue prints, pieces of paper, a small grey cube and a computer. 

“Found her,” grunted the man escorting Ashildr, causing the four people to turn around and look in her direction. 

A woman approached, Ashildr recognised her from when she took over Tim’s hologram. She sneered at her, narrowing her eyes. 

“Put her over there,” she pointed to a large leather chair on a foot high platform thirty feet to the left of the table, “I’ll deal with her once we’ve finished.” The woman stalked back to her position around the table, putting her palms flat and leaning over to continue her conversation. 

Ashildr was manhandled over towards the chair roughly. The man with the gun stood behind her and released the restraint on her right wrist, whilst the taller guard pushed her down towards the planted seat. He threaded the free handcuff through the left armrest and clamped it back around Ashildr’s right wrist tightly. 

“Is this really necessary?” said Ashildr to the man as he was sealing the cuff. 

“Be quiet,” grunted the man affixing her handcuffs, striking her on the stomach again. 

“Please stop doing that,” Ashildr said quietly, lowering her head. “I’m not going anywhere am I?” She exhaled heavily. 

The two men had disappeared by the time Ashildr looked up next, she struggled against the handcuffs, half for show, knowing that if she really wanted to she could get out of them. She was a little too far away to hear what was being said around the table, despite trying to hone in on the voices. Ashildr scanned around the room, noticing the two men who had been escorting her had relocated to guard the bank vault door, there appeared to be no other way in or out. The graphic on the screen was projected on a screen nearby. Ashildr noticed the time was 4.45, the money was registering at 8%, and the number of infected was now at 4587. 

The blonde woman had left the table and was walking towards Ashildr with heavy clipped footsteps, unmistakably the sound of high heeled shoes. Her green eyes glowed in the light reflected from the video screens, her red lips twisted into a devilish smile. She was holding the sunglasses in her right hand as she approached, stopping three feet away. 

“So,” said the woman in an American accent. “We meet again.”


	23. Chapter 23 - Clara

Clara spun around scoping out the area. “Over there!” she shouted, pointing, noticing a store with a small doorway. It had two fifty feet wide with screens either side of the entrance, phasing through large coloured pictures of apothecary jars. She began running the one hundred yards to the store, looking around to see Francis following quickly. She felt her boots slipping slightly on the highly polished floor as she tried to cover the distance. More people were running around them, tapping footsteps and panicked screams filled the air. 

They were halfway to the store when something dropped six feet in front of them on the floor with a loud thump. Clara instinctively held Francis back behind her as she slowed to avoid the obstruction, her boots squeaking on the tiles. It was a dark haired man in a white puffer jacket and black trousers who had landed face down, every limb was twisted in an unnatural direction. There was a stain of bright red blood diagonally across the back of the jacket. 

Francis and Clara both looked at each other, nonplussed. Clara went to crouch down and check the man’s pulse as she moved past, thinking better of it as she noticed the fingertips of his right hand were a mottled purple colour. She also saw a large gaping slash wound on the back of his neck weeping blood onto the green floor. A nearby runner jumped over the body, almost losing their balance afterwards, before disappearing into the distance. 

“Ok,” said Clara whilst standing up straight, preparing to run, “we need to move, now.” 

“Is he OK?” said Francis, moving towards the body. 

“Don’t touch him!” Clara shouted. “He’s infected!” 

“What?!” said Francis, recoiling. “How can you tell?” 

“No time to explain, come on!” she said loudly, pulling the elbow of his jacket in the direction she was running in. “Come on!” she shouted as Francis continued to look at the body, walking backwards. Two women almost ran straight into him, just about managing to swerve around. 

Francis eventually turned around and followed Clara sprinting towards the store. Clara went in and immediately turned right, leaning against the back of the store front. She bent over, putting her hands on her knees to catch her breath. Francis stood to her right, loosening his black tie, undoing his top shirt button. 

The three internal sides of the store had rows of realistic looking wooden shelving units on the video screens, with random products phasing across the display. They were interspersed with brightly coloured test tubes and glass bottles. A waist high solid white block counter was six feet from the edge of the back and side walls. 

“How can you tell he’s infected?” said Francis through stunted breaths. 

Clara exhaled a few more times before standing up, peering slightly outside. There were hundreds of people moving, it reminded her of the fun runners at the London Marathon, but without fancy dress. Screams and shouts carried in the air, along with the sounds of panicked footsteps. A body travelled high through the air and landed out of sight. Clara edged back inside. 

“Purple,” she said, exhaling, standing up slightly, “that’s how I could tell.” 

“Purple?” Francis said. 

“He- he was going purple on his fingers,” Clara just about got out, coughing. 

“Oh I see,” Francis said, “is that all it does? Turn you purple?” 

“Yes, of course that’s all it does,” Clara said sarcastically, “because those Anti-Greed people thought, hey, do you know what, the 800 million people in here need a tiny bit more little more colour in their lives... let’s turn them all bright purple! That’ll scare them into handing over their life savings!” 

He creased his eyebrows. “So what is going on?” 

“My best guess,” Clara stole another glance outside, still seeing people running and being thrown around, “the virus is infecting dead people, turning them into super strong zombies capable of throwing people very large distances.” She put a hand up to rub her forehead. 

“Have you seen this before?” said Francis, trying to crane his head around to look past the entrance. 

“No,” Clara said, “surprisingly I haven’t, a lot of other stuff like this, quite a few similar situations but zombies inside a shopping centre with two nuclear reactors... this,” she sighed, “this is a new one on me.” She half smiled. 

“You seem to know what you’re doing. Have you got a plan?” said Francis. 

“Why is everyone asking me whether I’ve got a plan today?” sighed Clara, resigned. “Is this what it’s going to be like? Being him? Always having to-” 

“Being who?” said Francis, interrupting. “I thought you said it was just you and Me?” 

“The Doctor,” said Clara. “And it is.” 

“Doctor who?” said Francis flatly. 

“Clever,” said Clara laughing, “see what you’ve done there,” she pointed at him, “I did that the first time I met him too. Never did really find that out, shame really, oh well.” She tilted her head. 

“I’m confused,” Francis said. “Have you got a plan or not?” 

“No, no I don’t,” she sighed. 

A middle aged man in red sweatshirt rolled up to the elbows, dark blue trousers and dirty white trainers moved in through the entrance. He had thinning cropped jet black hair, a Middle Eastern complexion and a large amount of unkempt stubble covering the bottom half of his face. He leaned against the other side, moving towards the corner, carrying a heavy black shot gun with a shoulder strap in his right hand, finger still on the trigger. 

Francis and Clara both looked at each other and then turned towards him. He dropped the gun heavily on the floor with a clatter and then sunk to the ground, putting his head in his hands. 

“We won’t go down without a fight,” he said to himself. He spoke with a European accent. “Yeah good one, can’t even shoot this thing.” He kicked the gun away, it skidded into the edge of the white counter six feet away. “I can’t do it!” he said, punching a fist into the grey marble floor. “I can’t do it!” he said loudly. “No matter what he says.” He sobbed into his right forearm. 

“Hello?” said Clara, cautiously moving across the entrance way towards the stranger. She crouched down next to him. 

“I can’t do it, I can’t do it!” he repeated at the same volume. 

“Hey, hey, it’s OK,” said Clara, sitting down alongside. “What’s happened?” 

“Those... those things,” he said angrily, “they’ve killed my family. My wife and my little girl both turned into them,” he put his head between his legs and continued sobbing, “I only went to the bathroom for a minute, I found the gun nearby. I pointed the gun at my wife, went to shoot but couldn’t. I’m a coward,” he cried, striking the floor again. 

“No, no,” said Clara, “no you’re not. You’ve just run away, like we’ve done,” she indicated Francis, still stood on the opposite side, “and all the others outside.” 

“But they’ve taken my family,” he sobbed, leaning towards her. “What am I going to do? What do I have to live for now? I may as well throw myself outside, turn into one of those things and be done with it.” 

“Don’t say that,” said Clara. “Don’t ever say that, you’ve managed to get away, alive, you owe it to them to get yourself out.” 

“But without them-” said the man. 

“You can’t think like that,” Clara shook her head, putting a hand on his right leg, “you’ve managed to get away, and trust me, I think that’s at the top of everyone’s agenda at the moment.” 

The man looked at her. “I’m never going to see them again,” said the man, “am I?” 

“Honest answer?” Clara said. “I really don’t know.” 

He started sobbing again. “I can’t do it, I can’t do it,” he muttered to himself. 

Clara paused for thought, glancing quickly towards Francis who shrugged back at her, bringing the knuckle of her right index finger to her lip. “What’s your name?” 

“Kodey,” the man said sniffling, “Kodey Natriska.” 

“Hi Kodey, I’m Clara, and that is Francis,” she smiled. “What’s your wife’s name?” Clara asked softly. 

“Hadija,” he said, inhaling. 

“And your daughter?” Clara turned towards him. 

“Luna,” he wiped tears away from his right eye with the palm of his hand. 

“That is a very pretty name,” Clara smiled. 

“We named her after the moon,” he sighed, “at least that what we told everyone, it was a character from my wife’s favourite book.” 

“Oh yeah? What was that?” Clara asked. 

“Harry Potter,” Kodey laughed, “I told her it was stupid, some thousand year old fairy story, but she insisted.” 

“My kids love Harry Potter!” said Clara, enthusiastically. She lowered her voice to a whisper, “don’t tell anyone but it’s secretly one of my favourites too.” 

“How many do you have?” he asked. 

“Oh, about thirty,” Clara laughed to herself. 

“Thirty children?!” exclaimed Francis from the other side of the doorway. “Strewth!” 

“Oh no, not like that,” Clara turned to look at him, “do I look like I’ve had,” she raised her voice a notch, “thirty children?” She paused. “I’m not even thirty myself, although,” she lowered her voice, “right this second I am technically 1152 years old, but I feel that’s something we too need to skirt around...” she trailed off. 

“Your kids?” said Kodey. 

“I’m a teacher, an English teacher, well, I was a teacher, I guess technically I still am, not sure a PCGE ever runs out...” said Clara, smiling, “my kids, as in, the children that I teach, that’s what I meant.” 

“Oh,” said Kodey, distracted, “I see.” 

“Now I promise you,” said Clara, “I am going to do everything in my power to help you. Hadija and Luna will not have died for nothing.” 

“What can you do? You’re just a teacher,” Kodey shook his head. “We are all going to die.” 

“No we are not,” said Clara, standing up, moving away from the wall to face him, “because you know what? I’ve got a plan,” she smiled, hands on her hips. 

“I thought you said you didn’t have a plan?” said Francis. 

“Shut up,” she said underneath her breath to Francis, “I do have a plan, and,” she cleared her throat, “if I do say so myself, it is,” she paused, “spectacular.” 

“So we are going to fix this?” said Kodey, looking up. 

“Yes, yes we are,” said Clara, left hand on her hip. “Because this teacher,” she pointed at herself with her right hand, “this marble salesman-” she pointed at Francis. 

“I’d prefer executive marble retailer,” Francis interrupted. 

“Really?” Clara stared at him “OK then, so this teacher, this... executive marble retailer, and,” she paused, “Kodey, what do you do?” she asked him. 

“I’m a weapon designer,” said Kodey. 

“And this... Sorry, what?” said Clara. “Weapon designer? As in you design weapons?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Never fired anything, I just design and make them.” 

“I feel like that is going to be a useful special skill-” Clara smiled. 

“Who are you?” said Kodey, looking up at her. 

“Right now, I guess I am the one chance you have got at staying alive,” said Clara, “that’s who I am.” 

A single gunshot fired from outside. Clara heard it whistle past her left ear and land on the screen at the back of the shop, shattering the glass loudly. She immediately sat back down next to Kodey. 

“Just as long as I don’t get shot first, that is,” she joked nervously.


	24. Chapter 24 - Ashildr

“What do you mean, we meet again?” Ashildr said, confused. 

The woman stared at her with a raised eyebrow. “Do you not remember?” 

“No, I’m sorry, my memory isn’t quite what it used to be,” said Ashildr, “you may need to remind me.” 

“I saw you at the entrance,” the woman said. “Breathtaking, isn’t it?” she laughed pointedly. 

“That was you?” said Ashildr, remembering speaking to the American woman, but not looking at her for more than a second. “I don’t recall,” she smirked, “you must have quite a forgettable face.” 

“Forgettable?” snapped the American woman. She moved closer to Ashildr, putting a hand onto each of the arm rests of her chair. “Let’s see how forgettable I am to the seven hundred odd million people inside here after today.” Her face was a foot from Ashildr’s, her fierce green eyes sent a chill down the back of her neck. 

“Who are you?” said Ashildr. 

“That is unimportant at this moment,” the woman said, glaring at her. She tapped her blood red fingernails on the arm rests. 

“So, what do you want from me?” asked Ashildr, narrowing her eyes. “I’ve already won one stare out today, so I’m curious to see how you will get on.” 

“What do we want from you?” said the woman, unflinching. “You are our leverage.” 

“Leverage? Leverage how?” said Ashildr, not blinking. 

“Your friend,” said the woman, “the one with an affliction for buying large amounts of clothing, is of great value to us.” 

“She’s not my...” Ashildr paused, “friend.” She raised her eyebrow, mirroring the expression the American was giving her. 

The woman moved off the chair. “She pointed these,” she held up the sunglasses towards Ashildr’s face, “at a machine and managed to get fifty eight million credits from nowhere. That is a very unique talent that we would very much like to learn.” 

“So why am I sat here then?” said Ashildr, tilting her head, “surely you want her, not me?” 

“We haven’t been able to get a direct hit on her tag, the centre’s network is still being hacked into. We got yours as it appears you have a penchant for being impervious to tattoos, something we would also like to have the ability to do, as it would have save us a lot of time breaking in here” the woman, putting her left hand in the pocket of her dress. 

“I have a large number of special skills,” said Ashildr, “I could be very valuable to you, if you release me.” 

“Like spontaneous gymnastics?” said the woman, turning to pace away from her, folding her arms, displaying a grey shirt dress. 

“Wait-” gasped Ashildr, “that was you too?” 

“Of course it was,” she turned back around. “We were scoping you two out. So no, I’m not going to release you, just in case you are planning to, I don't know, jump over a barrier.” 

“Who are you, aside from the Anti-Greed Alliance?” asked Ashildr, changing the subject. 

“We prefer to call ourselves the AGA. You may be familiar with some of our previous work,” she said. “You can call me Delta.” 

“I’m guessing that isn’t your real name?” mused Ashildr. 

“You would be correct. I’m guessing Me is not yours either,” said Delta, raising an eyebrow. 

“Wrong,” said Ashildr, smiling, “that is my name.” 

“Interesting,” said Delta, moving to look at her closely again. “Are you afraid of me?” 

“No,” stated Ashildr. “Are you afraid of me?” 

Delta laughed loudly. “You should be afraid of me,” she stepped behind her. “I can kill you instantly.” 

“I’d like to see you try,” said Ashildr, not moving. She smiled, knowing they hadn’t figured out she was immortal. 

“Don’t tempt me,” said Delta, very close behind her. 

“I’m much more use to you alive than dead,” Ashildr smirked, “you and I both know that.” 

Delta moved around in front. “It would appear so. Your friend-“ 

“She’s not my friend,” interrupted Ashildr blankly. 

“- has enough money for fifty people, give or take a few Gucci suits. That means she is valuable. And exactly the sort of person we are here to rid the world of.” 

“I’m sorry?” said Ashildr. 

“Think about it,” said Delta, putting her left hand on Ashildr’s right shoulder lightly. “Imagine a world obsessed with having things, buying things and having money,” she cast her right hand around, holding the sunglasses, “the rich able to buy anything they want.” 

“OK,” said Ashildr, playing along. 

“Imagine all those people turning up in one place,” Delta held her hand still, saying slowly, “on the same day.” 

“Sounds awfully familiar,” noted Ashildr. 

“We can cleanse the world of all of the rich, self obsessed, materialistic consumers,” sneered Delta. 

“I think you missed out the word innocent,” Ashildr looked to her right. 

“Well, yes, a few innocents may be caught up along the way,” she dismissed, taking her hand off Ashildr’s shoulder, “but we are here to make a point.” She stood with her arms crossed to Ashildr’s right. 

“I’m all for making a point, but... eight hundred million points?” said Ashildr, incredulous. 

“Admittedly a very large point,” she laughed, “with a very large payment at the end.” 

“But why?” asked Ashildr. 

“Why?” said Delta. “That is the question isn’t it?” she mused, laughing, pacing around Ashildr slowly, her heels clicking with each step. “How do these work?” she held the sunglasses in near Ashildr’s face when she was in front of her. 

“Why would I help you?” said Ashildr, creasing her eyebrows, looking away unimpressed. 

Delta strolled to the main table in the centre of the room and returned with a small dark grey handgun. She held it in her left hand, the sunglasses still visible but now lodged in the right pocket of her shirt dress. She shifted the barrel of the gun with a loud snap with her right hand. Delta put her perfectly manicured left index finger on the trigger and held the gun at arm’s length with her right hand on her hip. She aimed it in the middle of Ashildr’s eyes. 

“Maybe this is a good enough reason?” Delta tilted her head slightly and raised the opposite eyebrow. 

“Try me,” said Ashildr, mirroring her expression, “you won’t shoot,” she dared. 

“Won’t I?” sneered Delta, audibly tightening her grip on the gun, “if I’m not afraid to kill eight hundred million people, I’m certainly not going to have any qualms at all about killing some,” she sized Ashildr up, “some... fourteen year old school girl, half my age, barely out of the womb, am I?” 

"If I am half your age you're looking very good for it," Ashildr muttered under her breath. “I am a lot older than I look,” she defended. 

“I’m sure you are,” dismissed Delta, standing her ground. 

“Go on, shoot me then,” said Ashildr, “I dare you.” She stared at Delta, smirking. 

Delta resettled the gun in her hands. 

“Except,” said Ashildr, “if you kill me, you will never get to find out how they,” she indicated with her head to Delta’s right hip, “work. They are extremely useful, I’m sure you must have found that out by now.” 

Delta continued to stare her out, unwilling to back down. Ashildr glared at her, unblinking. 

“You will tell me,” Delta demanded, unflinching. 

“If I’m dead,” said Ashildr, “I won’t be able to.” 

Delta sighed loudly and the relaxed the grip on the gun, letting it fall around her finger and point to the ceiling. She put the gun into the belt of the front of her dress before coming up to Ashildr to put her hands on the chair arms again, putting her nose an inch in front of Ashildr’s, tapping both sets of fingernails against the frame. 

Ashildr stayed still, aiming her blue eyes towards Delta’s large pupils. Delta narrowed her glare, twitching her eyelid as she stood up. She turned around, maintaining eye contact as long as possible, walking loudly back to the round table. 

Ashildr smirked to herself, knowing she'd won a second stare out.


	25. Chapter 25 - Clara

Clara indicated for Francis to come and join her, he cautiously peered around the entrance door and moved to sit with them. 

“Right, so,” said Clara, thinking out loud, “first of all, if we are stuck in here we are going to need to arm ourselves. I’ve already just almost been shot,” she looked towards the shattered white screen at the back of the store. It had exposed a small space which she presumed could be a way to leave the store. “Francis, you know this place, how do people in here have weapons? The security checks looked pretty extensive as we came in?” 

“Yeah, they are,” Francis agreed, “we can’t get so much as a hammer in here to do our work.” 

“So how do people have,” she pointed to the floor, “shotguns?” 

“I found this one lying on the floor,” said Kodey. 

“The only thing I can think is that they have bought them whilst they’ve been in here,” pondered Francis. 

“But I thought everything you buy gets delivered out to the car parks?” said Clara. 

“Most of it does,” said Francis, “but you can get it to take with you, they changed it once they started privatising the mass transportation network.” 

“How does that work?” Clara asked. 

“If you don’t travel on a private vehicle they give you a miniaturiser,” said Francis, as he used his right thumb and index finger to indicate an object about three inches long, “and in some of the departments they have real-life samples for you to try, it’s feasible, I guess that some of them could be stolen or removed.” 

“OK,” Clara nodded. “Miniaturiser and samples, that’s where this stuff is coming from. Well we’ve already got one, so that is promising,” she smiled, pointing towards the floor. 

“So what are we doing then?” said Francis, brushing the thigh of his green trousers with the palm of his hand, removing the creases. “Are we going to buy weapons?” 

Clara pondered, “I’m not sure that is a good idea, I feel like going to the place with all the guns will end up in one of us getting shot. I’ve almost been shot here, for god’s sake! No, that is not a good idea.” Clara fished into the right pocket of her jacket and pulled out the map and the psychic paper together. Francis and Kodey looked down towards it and back at each other. 

“You actually bloody bought one of those maps?” said Francis, laughing. 

“They are a total rip off,” nodded Kodey in agreement. “The first time I came here mine broke within an hour.” 

“Well, it’s kind of one of my rules. Get a map,” said Clara, ignoring them, “and besides, it has come in pretty handy so far.” 

“What’s that?” said Kodey, pointing at the psychic paper. 

“Oh this,” said Clara, moving it between her hands, “this is useful, it’s my... err... identification.” She held the paper up to Kodey, “what does it say?” 

Kodey examined the piece of paper before saying, “it says... you’re a mystery shopper.” 

"Really?" Clara laughed loudly. She turned it to herself and saw it was blank. 

“Yeah, it says,” he read again, “you can access anywhere in the TCM.” 

“Not wishing to prejudge the situation here, but,” Clara smiled, “today is a really bad day for them to have a mystery shopper. And I can tell you, my report will not be favourable.” She aimed the psychic paper at Francis. “What does it say for you?” 

“It says the same,” Francis read it, “mystery shopper.” 

There was a loud shot outside that made them all jump and look around. 

“Of course,” said Clara, resigned, “because Kodey has already told you what’s on it.” She looked down at it again, as some writing appeared. It said 'D675'. “Ok, so that’s weird.” 

“What is?” asked Francis. 

“The paper, it’s telling me to go to D675. What or where is that?” Clara said, unfolding the map onto her lap. 

“But it’s blank?” said Kodey, confused, watching over her shoulder. 

“Yes, it does that,” said Clara, inspecting the map. “Where are we now?” 

A white dot appeared on the map, indicating that they were at P437. 

“How do we get to D675?” she said. A white line appeared on the map, directing them to the nearest transmission point, fifteen minutes walk in the direction they had been heading in before hiding in the store. 

“May I?” said Francis, taking the map from her, Clara nodded. He waved his hands around the image, pinching the hologram and zooming in on it, exposing new layers of the map she hadn’t noticed. 

“I did not know it did that,” said Clara, impressed. “What are you looking for?” 

“I’m seeing where you’re taking us,” he said as an aside, “and what’s there.” 

The map point showed the marker for D675, showing it was in the Diamond section of the centre. Francis moved the map away from the main boulevard towards the inner section. 

“Diamonds?” said Clara, tilting her head, smiling, “now that sounds like a place I need to be.” She was trying to make light of the situation. 

A loud gunshot broke her mood. 

“I knew it!” exclaimed Francis. He pointed at the map. “That’s one of the operation centres, I thought I recognised it, right there, in the same area. How did you know that?” He looked at her, lowering his eyebrows. 

“This paper,” she indicated the psychic paper, “comes in useful, I told you. It’s a little bit psychic.” 

“Cool,” said Kodey, still sniffling, picking it up to examine it. “We’ve been working on some prototypes in the office for psychic clothes for the army to allow the soldiers to blend into their surroundings. This is fascinating.” 

“And it’s also mine,” said Clara, taking it back and putting it into her pocket. 

There was another gunshot outside, closer. 

“I don’t feel safe staying here with the amount of gunshots I'm hearing going off,” Clara said, using the wall to heave herself up. She moved towards the shotgun, picking it up by the strap off the floor. It was heavier than she had been expecting. “OK, so I think I’ll hold onto this,” she said, half smiling. She put her hand over the trigger, stopping short of resting her finger on the release. She half wondered if she would actually be able to fire the gun, deciding to meet that bridge when she came to it. 

There was another gunshot outside that pinged on some metal, accompanied by some loud screams. Clara instinctively put her back to the wall, slinging the shotgun diagonally over her right shoulder, barrel down. 

A loud guttural shout near the entrance caused Francis and Kodey to get up off the floor quickly and edge their way towards the corner of the space. 

“What was that?” said Francis, moving slowly away from the entrance, pushing Kodey into the left hand side wall. Clara swung the gun around to hold it and point it towards the doorway, keeping Francis and Kodey behind her. All three of them were walking backwards in the direction of the counter, so that they could be invisible from the entrance. 

A figure came staggering into the entrance. 

“Get down!” said Clara said quietly under her breath, pulling Francis down to her left. They were kneeling behind the counter as a loud long wet growl sounded from the other side. Kodey crouched backwards. 

Clara tried to breathe quietly as she leant to her right to peer around the side edge of the counter. She was unable to see anything, reverting to her earlier position. Kodey leant forward to look past Francis at Clara, waiting for an instruction. Clara put her right index finger to her lips as she felt them both watching her. 

She crouched on her feet, slowly rising up to glance over the counter quickly. Standing twenty feet from her was a figure facing away dressed in torn black clothing, all the visible skin was a mottled purple colour. The person groaned loudly again, beginning to turn towards where they were hiding, Clara quickly ducked out of view, seeing Francis and Kodey wanting a report. She pointed in the direction quickly and did her best silent charades impression of a zombie. 

Francis creased his eyebrows and shook his head confused. Clara put her finger to her lips again and pointed towards the far corner behind Kodey. They both nodded back at her, Kodey crouched onto his feet and edged silently in the direction of the corner. 

Clara crouched and walked backwards, pointing the gun at the edge of the counter. She backed into Francis accidentally, misjudging the distance. “Sorry,” she mouthed quietly to him. Clara indicated for Kodey to keep moving, so she could take cover. 

They were approaching the area where the gunshot had landed on the wall earlier. There were many shards of glass lying on the marble floor tiles, large fabric fibres hanging limp where the wall had been broken, the occasional spark lit up the darkness beyond. Kodey sat on the floor, back to the counter again, Francis took a quick look up over the top, reminding Clara of a meerkat as he stood. 

Francis slunk back down, turning his back to the counter, his face pale. He indicated with his thumb behind and then mimicked Clara’s impression of a zombie. He made himself very low to the ground. Clara followed his lead. 

A loud wet gargle resonated in the space above them. Kodey looked down to the floor, grimacing, head between his legs. Clara and Francis both took a cautious glance towards each other and then directed their eyes to the ceiling. Clara put her right hand on Francis’ left jacket sleeve as they stayed as still as possible. Clara swallowed heavily to the back of her throat, listening carefully for any sign of movement. 

Two mottled purple hands instantly appeared two feet above their heads, causing them both to jump an inch off the floor. Clara and Francis scrabbled to melt themselves into the floor as the hands grasped and snatched at the air towards the ceiling. Kodey noticed as Francis accidentally elbowed him in the ribs, he let out a small shout and started backing away. Their feet kicked around the broken glass beads on the floor as they tried to get away. The hands lowered, exposing white sleeves, coming within inches of the top of Clara’s head.


	26. Chapter 26 - Ashildr

Ashildr settled herself in the seat, shifting up to get comfortable. She fought against the handcuffs again, clipping it loudly against the metal frame as she pretended to struggle.

She watched as Delta returned to her place around the table, all the members of the group now deep in conversation, still frustratingly out of earshot. The Russian Man stole a glance to Ashildr as they talked. 

She sat there for a while, staring at each one of them individually, trying to figure out the group dynamics.

Delta was clearly the talker of the group, leaning over the table, intermittently pointing between the other member and items on the top surface. She snapped her fierce green eyes towards the person she was talking at, using her hand to make a point. She looked impatient, an almost permanent scowl etched on her face.

The grey haired man in the trench coat was stood up listening, very rarely speaking. He stood upright, pensive in thought, arms crossed as he held the knuckle of his right index finger to his mouth. He occasionally rubbed the stubble on his chin under the pads of his fingertips. The man had the air of absorbing information rather than contributing anything.

Ashildr watched the Russian Man, much more animated in his gestures. He paced around heavily with his hands in the pockets of the green and silver striped padded jacket, occasionally pointing at Delta with a large meaty finger, hand in a fist. He had a tendency to run his left hand over the surface of his head, turning around frequently. It was as if he could not stand still for more than a few seconds. If he disagreed he folded his arms around his hefty frame and took a few steps away, before returning and shouting. Ashildr could hear his voice when the volume increased, catching the occasional word, but nowhere near able to distinguish any sentences.

The teenage boy sat atop a high stool, legs open wide, tapping on various devices, moving his hands around in the air, pinching and pulling at some kind of holographic image. It appeared to be a map of the centre, which he orientated to match a point made by Delta. The group looked towards the images intermittently. He stood up to inspect various computer consoles around the perimeter of the raised space before returning to sit down. He barely spoke, distracting himself tapping on a screen or zooming in on a blueprint.

She was trying to identify who the leader was in the group based on their body language. She made a secret bet with herself that it was the boy, as he seemed to control the majority of the information.

Ashildr noticed the monitor with the figures. The time read 05.41am, the donation level had jumped up to 18%, and the infections registered at 10879. She was still curious how they were gauging the number of people infected, standing by her earlier assessment that it was some sort of elaborate hoax.

The boy stood up suddenly, pushing his seat back with a loud resonating scrape which echoed around the space. He went up a metal spiral staircase to pace around the people sat within the central cylinder. There were a few sideways glances between the workers, Ashildr was unsure why until she saw a gun barrel poking out past one of the column supports, noticing there was a solider watching them.

An alarm sounded and the lighting turned a sinister blood red colour, causing her eyes to readjust and focus differently. The Russian Man moved down towards where Ashildr was sitting, away from the main table to look up at the video screens on the outside.

“What’s happening?” he shouted, barely audible over the alarm. She wanted to cover her ears but couldn’t.

A video screen to Ashildr’s left was flashing intermittently, the boy ran up a couple of flights to examine the feed. Delta and the man in the trench coat had emerged from around the table to look up, they were stood on the other side of the room. She couldn’t make out what was on the screen due to the angle she was sat at, no matter how much she shifted in the chair.

The boy had taken over the desk controlling that section of video feed, roughly pushing aside a woman with white hair. The woman tried to stop him, but was restrained above her shoulders by a large framed guard. The alarm was swiftly turned off, leaving a silence that rung in Ashildr’s ears. All lighting in the room was still red and beginning to give Ashildr a headache.

She could see Delta shouting something but couldn’t hear due to the distance. The grey haired man stood gazing up with his arms folded.

“What’s happening?” boomed the Russian Man again, pacing around to join Delta and the grey haired man.

The lights returned to their normal colouring, leaving Ashildr’s vision with a yellow hue for thirty seconds until her eyes readjusted. The boy furiously tapped away on the computer screen on an upper level, getting up and walking quickly down the spiral staircase, jumping the last three steps to the ground holding onto the handrail. The white haired woman was pushed back into her seat a few seconds later. The guard returned out of Ashildr’s view.

The others moved back to join him around the table. The boy was pinpointing an area of the shopping centre and explaining something to the others by moving around it.

Ashildr still couldn’t make out anything they were saying, but saw them all nodding in agreement.

The boy picked up a small grey cube off the table and made his way down a couple of stairs in Ashildr’s direction, stepping in oddly springy steps as if he were lighter than he had been expecting. He clicked his fingers once and one of the guards at the door came swiftly over to where he was standing, six feet in front of her. Delta was following the boy, leaving the two men to engage in harsh words.

“Take this,” he said in the harsh voice, throwing the small cube towards the tall guard. He just about caught it in his right hand, almost dropping it onto the floor. The boy rolled his eyes and glared at him through the square frames of his glasses. “When I tell you, point the blue side towards us and, press the red button... just like last time. Do you think you can manage that?” he said, threateningly.

“Yes,” the man grunted back.

“Good,” he said, turning his back on him, fixing his stare towards Ashildr. He pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose, half sneering as he paced over. He was wearing a grey hooded jumper, skinny black trousers and some dirty black and white shoes. He carried a small rucksack, so tight to his back that there could easily have been nothing inside it.

“Can I help you?” said Ashildr, narrowing her eyes as he got within a couple of feet.

“Yes, yes you can,” he began laughing loudly at her. “Who are you?” he sneered.

“Who are you?” said Ashildr, not rising to his challenge.

“I’m... Mike,” he said. “I’d shake your hand, but...” he looked down, indicating her handcuffs, “oh.”

“Enjoying your school trip?” Ashildr said, sarcastically.

“Who do you think you are?” he snapped back at her.

“The person that is going to stop you, stop all of this,” she smiled at him.

“Really?” he said, standing back, eyeing her up and down. “You’re barely older than me, what are you going to do? So what if you can’t get tattooed, who cares? Big woop di do!” he laughed manically, spinning around slowly.

“Stop!” chided Delta approaching from behind from the table, she pulled him away by the shoulder, practically throwing him backwards. “Mike, what have I told you?” she turned to him and pointed angrily.

The Russian Man came over, he quickly picked Mike up by the scruff of his neck. “Do you think this is funny little man?” His large fists were either side of Mike’s chin, their combined size bigger than his head. 

Mike shook his head as much as he could within the restrictions of the hold. “Put me down,” he demanded. His glasses were almost on his forehead, he stood on tiptoes off the floor.

“Do you think what we are doing here today is funny?” the Russian growled, still holding Mike up.

Mike grimaced and shook his head. “No I don’t.”

“Remember who is in charge here,” he pulled Mike’s face towards him, “understand?”

Mike nodded quickly, his face beginning to go red. The Russian Man retightened the grip, heaving him upwards.

Ashildr sighed to herself, realising she had lost the bet with herself about who was in charge.

“Put him down,” said Delta, blankly, waving her hand. “You can choke him to death after we’ve finished. Believe me, we all want to do it, Victor.”

Victor pulled Mike’s face close to his and sneered at him, letting go of his hold. Mike fell to the floor in a crumpled heap, holding onto his neck, breathing heavily. “Not so tough, are you, little man?” Victor laughed heartily at him.

The grey haired man moved from the table towards the rest of the group. “When all of you have quite finished...” he said in the pronounced English accent, “we have work to do.” He nodded towards Ashildr, a blank expression on his face.


	27. Chapter 27 - Clara

Clara looked towards her feet, seeing a large crack in the glass towards her right boot. She weighed up quickly whether she would be able to kick it, realising quickly she couldn't reach it from where she was. Clara shuffled a few feet from the counter towards the wall, aiming a solid kick at the crack. The glass didn't budge, but the image on it glitched for a few seconds.

Her legs caught some of the stray shards of glass on the floor, scratching her. She moved the gun from behind her back to get it out of her way, inspecting it as she held it in her hands. She worked it off her shoulder and slung the stock at the crack, hearing a hollow sound. A few marble sized pieces of glass fell onto her legs from above.

Kodey heard the noise and shuffled to join her, landing some hard kicks at a similar fault in the glass nearer him. Every kick dropped small beads of glass down onto them. Clara continued hitting the wall with the gun, not looking behind her. Francis joined in, the glass was raining down on them, a shiny fabric style webbing hung down limply in its place.

After a minute their collective efforts had cleared a space against the floor that Clara estimated they could all individually crawl forwards through. She indicated for Kodey to go inside, he just about managed it, a few jagged shards of glass snagged onto his red jumper lightly, one tore a small hole behind his right shoulder as he passed.

Francis aimed one more sideways kick just above the space, removing the jagged shard that had been flecked with dark red threads.

"Go!" Clara said to him quickly, pulling up the shoulder of his jacket.

Francis flipped around onto his front, scattering a large amount of glass off his suit onto the floor as he crawled easily through the gap. His legs kicked as he struggled to gain traction underneath his shoes, but eventually they disappeared completely.

Clara went to follow him, noticing figures moving in the peripheral vision to her left and right. She threw the shotgun through the hole, hearing it crash loudly on the floor behind the glass. She swung her legs around, pushing her head through into the space, managing to get her shoulders and arms inside to pull herself along the floor. She had the same problem as Francis, unable to find anything to push against with her feet other than skidding against shards of glass. Using her elbows and body to anchor herself against the floor she found herself in complete darkness, a small patch of blurred illumination coming from where the bullet had impacted earlier.

She got herself up quickly, backing away from the source of light as the shape of a person cast a shadow against it. Clara froze as her back hit something, unable to move, she could hear the ragged breathing of someone else around her, close. The surface of the glass was six feet away, the shadow stayed put, as if searching for something in the darkness. Clara couldn't see any specific features, just the outline of the head and torso. Clara was grateful she couldn't feel any pulse inside her, knowing it would have been thundering out of her chest by now.

There was another gargling shout, followed by what could have been an echo, but Clara deduced it was another monster as she saw a pair of feet cast long shadows in the patch of light coming from the gap near the floor.

Both figures groaned loudly at each other, as if they were communicating. Clara slowed her breath, trying to inspire as quietly as she could.

A few minutes later the torso shadow moved, quickly followed by the feet moving in the opposite direction. Clara remained still, willing the others to do the same. Now her eyes had accustomed to the dark light, she could see Kodey very close to her left and Francis a little further down on her right.

"Have they gone?" whispered Francis quietly, trying to hold his breath.

"Shh," said Clara with as little volume as possible, wanting to be totally sure the creatures had gone before making even the tiniest bit of noise.

Clara took very slow footsteps towards the upper patch of light, seeing a hazy image of two figures leaving the entranceway. A third figure was lying over the counter top, still grasping at air, trying to wrestle itself backwards to stand up. Clara noticed the creature was wearing a white jacket, the same as the man that had landed heavily in front of her and Francis when they were running earlier. It fell backwards off the counter before Clara could get a proper look at it, leaving a smear of dark red blood in its wake.

Clara stayed still as the figure picked itself up, facing away from her and shuffled with a limp out of the store towards the boulevard and out of view. She stooped to pick up the shotgun, quietly as possible lifting it up from the ground by the strap slowly, she carried it on her right shoulder before turning around silently to look at Kodey and Francis.

"I think they're gone," she said softly, treading carefully on the floor.

"What do we do now?" whispered Kodey, behind her. "I can't see a thing back here."

"Hang on," Clara said quietly, pulling the shotgun strap over her head onto her left shoulder. She unzipped her left pocket and pulled out her phone, holding it in her right hand as she checked the TARDIS keys were still there. She zipped the pocket back up, and as a precaution did the other one after checking the contents.

She pressed the home button on her phone, unlocking it and then selecting the torch function. The flash turned on, illuminating the dark area with a harsh bright light.

"What's that?" said Francis, examining the space they were in, shielding his eyes from the beam.

"It's... err... a torch," said Clara, unsure if phones existed any more, she hadn't seen any being used at all. "Any complaints?" Kodey and Francis both shook their heads.

The darkened room was painted black, there were numerous vertical and horizontal scaffolding bars supporting the screen, the floor had various cables snaking around, and there were several defunct pieces of equipment collecting dust. It was clear this was not an area visited often.

Clara ran her hand along the upper surface of a horizontal pole, looking at the dust collected on her fingertips. She blew it off with a loud breath. She turned in both directions, deciding the way on the right towards Francis looked more promising, and should lead them to a transmission area. Her shoes felt slippery on the coating of dust, making a soft crispy sound with every step.

"This way," she said, at an almost normal volume, stooping to duck under a horizontal bar, holding her phone in front with her right hand. She checked behind and saw Kodey following her, with Francis at the back.

"What are those things?" said Kodey, looking backwards.

"Not quite worked that out yet," said Clara, "my best guess at the moment is that they are zombies."

"Zombies?!" said Kodey, incredulous. "My family have been turned into zombies?" he looked back, "this cannot be happening," he said resigned. "You can fix it, though, right? You seem to know what you're doing. You can help me get Hadija and Luna back," he pleaded, touching her on the shoulder, "right?"

Clara stopped to face him, sighing. "I will do everything I can to help you," she said, sounding like one of the cards she had written for the Doctor, "I promise, I really will." She put her left hand on his arm, squeezing it gently. "I can't imagine how you must be feeling," she looked into his eyes, "but right now we need to stick together and try to find a way out of here, OK?" She smiled reassuringly.

"Come on, mate," said Francis, putting a hand on his shoulder from behind, "last thing we want is to be turned into one of those monsters is it? What use will you be then, eh?"

Kodey nodded with his head down, sniffling, wiping away a tear with the back of his hand. "OK."

"So, let's go," said Clara, toning down the enthusiasm she showed when leaving the TARDIS earlier. She turned around to continue walking.

Clara found a route around the scaffolding, occasionally stopping to pass over or under a support. After about five minutes they approached a normal sized door which had a small window. A dim light was coming from the other side.

She was unable to see out, even when standing on tiptoes. "What's out there?" said Clara to Francis.

Francis looked easily through the window, wiping a layer of dust off with the side of his right hand, brushing it off on his thigh. "Some sort of corridor, goes left and right, can't see anything else," he peered into every corner of the window searching for information to pass on.

Clara shone her phone left and right, only seeing a flat black wall as far as she could see, this was the only way to progress in this direction. There was a horizontal letterbox sized hole to the left of the door, a red light poking out through the spaces in a thick layer of dust. She wiped it off and it glowed steadily.

"Ok, so here goes," she said cautiously, putting her hand inside the scanner. Nothing happened.

"Why isn't it working?" said Francis.

"I don't know," said Clara, shining her torch on to the hole, inspecting it. "One of you try," she said.

Francis put his hand into the scanner, still nothing happened.

"Hmm," said Clara. "Kodey, your go."

"I doubt it will work for me," said Kodey as he slotted his right hand in, "I'm a nobody."

"Oh, don't be so pessimistic," said Clara, "it will affect-" she paused, having a strange feeling of déjà vu. The door still wasn't opening.

"We're not going to get through, are we?" said Kodey, despairingly, "we're going to be stuck in here forever with these... these things..."

Clara paused, now unsure of what to do, trying to figure a way out that didn't involve going back the way they had come. She banged her head against the door loudly causing Kodey to stop. She subconsciously unzipped her left pocket and rested her hand on something which she immediately pulled out to look at.


	28. Chapter 28 - Clara

“Hang on,” said Clara, standing up straight, pulling out a small square piece of plastic fabric from left her pocket and holding it up to the light. It was the skin graft from Ashildr’s hand which she had accidentally ripped off trying to get through the access door. It had the barcode on one side, in the centre of the other side there was an eight digit code, 95430612. Clara guessed this was some sort of production code from when they had come in.

“They are going to kill us all too-“ Kodey started up again.

“Shh!” she said to Kodey, silencing him with a soft arm across his chest.

“A handkerchief? That’s your idea?” he shook his head, leaning against the wall, “now I know we’re all doomed.”

“What is that?” said Francis, examining it. “Is that a- how did you get that?”

“This?” Clara said smiling, laying the fake skin carefully over her right hand, “oh, this is Me’s.”

“Don’t you mean mine?” said Kodey, rubbing his eyes. “I thought you were supposed to be a teacher?”

“I am,” she sighed, lining up her hand to match the orientation, “it belongs to Me.”

“OK,” said Kodey, despondently, “that’s better, if we’re going to die at least speak correctly.”

“No,” interjected Francis, “she means her friend-“

“Not my friend,” said Clara, pausing what she was doing, not looking at him.

“Touchy subject, I forgot,” said Francis under his breath to Kodey with a knowing smirk.

“Oh,” Kodey replied in the same way Francis had earlier, “like that is it?”

“Shut up, both of you,” snapped Clara, “can we please focus on what we are doing right now and not on my exceptionally complicated completely platonic non-relationship with my travelling companion?”

The two men looked back at her sheepishly, not saying anything.

“Thank you,” she acknowledged exasperatedly. “Now we’ve cleared that up, not quite sure if this will work, but...” she trailed off.

Clara put her hand into the scanner and the door slid open to the right and showered them in a small cloud of dust. She smiled back at them triumphantly, seeing the relief spread on their faces.

“Looks like that is a very useful handkerchief...” said Kodey, now impressed, heading towards her.

Clara pushed Kodey and Francis out into the corridor quickly before stepping through herself. The door shut softly immediately behind them. She had almost been left on the other side.

“Oh yeah,” said Clara, eyes glinting. She leaned back against the wall in the dimly lit corridor, “I am really glad that worked,” she laughed.

The nondescript corridor had dusty off-white walls, an almost mirror like finish to the well worn beige floor tiles and harsh strip lighting. To her left was a long walkway that Clara assumed would lead back to the boulevard. There was a door at the end. On the right a little distance away was a large hatch with a large black space next to it.

“Which way do we go now?” said Kodey, pushing up his left sleeve past his elbow.

“Well,” said Clara, turning off the torch on her phone, unzipping her right pocket to stow it and the skin graft, “that way,” she pointed left, “feels like it’s going to take us back towards where we were, I say right,” she paused, thinking how she could get information. “What is that way?” she asked Francis, doing up her pocket.

“Judging by our position,” Francis said, trying brush as much dust off his suit as possible, “the service areas.”

“Know your way around?” said Clara.

“I’d like to think so,” said Francis, with a smile, loosening his tie a little more.

“Good,” said Clara, breezing past them. Her quick soft footsteps echoed around the corridor, quickly joined by a sharp clipping coming from Francis’ shoes and then a dull squeak from Kodey’s trainers, indicating they were following. She allowed herself a small smirk, beginning to enjoy herself.

They reached the hatch after a few minutes. Clara looked around, finding the scanner below the large black panel. She retrieved the fake skin out of her right pocket and put it over her hand, scanning it quickly under the laser.

“Hope this works,” she said quietly. “Be ready to move if it does.”

The hatch made a loud snapping noise, opening from the bottom vertically. Clara grabbed the skin graft in her left hand and waited for the door to fully open. The three of them lined up ready to go through as if they were about to start a long distance running event.

Once it had opened to chest level she indicated for them all to go through. It stopped suddenly and then began lowering.

“Quick! It’s closing,” shouted Clara, stooping to get under, catching the shotgun on the bottom of the door as she did. She immediately dropped further down, crouching and then barrel rolling on the floor to just get inside before the gap was too small. She laughed to herself, lying on her back as the shutter sealed to her right, grateful for her taekwondo training. Francis and Kodey helped her to stand upright, offering out a hand each.

She brushed herself down, adjusting her dress, putting the skin graft back in her left pocket, a little embarrassed. “It’s OK, I’m fine,” she said, exhaling heavily. “That was close,” she laughed, “need to remember I’ve got a gun,” she said, making a mental note.

A large black panel to the right of the door turned white suddenly, catching her attention. She paced in front of it.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please may we have your attention,” boomed a loud announcement from the ceiling.

The white screen changed to show five figures, four standing and one seated, illuminated against a black background. Clara tapped Francis on the shoulder and pointed at the screen, mouth open.

“We have a further announcement.”


	29. Chapter 29 - Ashildr

Mike got up from the floor quickly, adjusted the zip on his hooded top, reset his glasses and moved around to Ashildr’s left side. He scowled to himself. Victor followed, standing in front of Mike, making a fist with his right hand, going to punch him but stopping a few inches from his face. Mike recoiled a few paces back, panicking, stumbling into a bank of controls.

“Scared, little man?” Victor said, laughing loudly, going to ruffle Mike’s hair patronisingly with his right hand.

Mike batted Victor’s hand away. “Do you mind?” he shouted, raising a fist in return.

“Like to see you try,” chuckled Victor, holding out his hands, inviting a punch.

Mike kept his fist up, narrowing his eyes.

“No?” Victor said, goading him, “not so tough, are you?” Victor sniggered.

“You two,” snapped Delta moving in front of Ashildr to her left, “please stop.”

Victor moved around to the right side of Ashildr with heavy footsteps.

“What are you doing?” asked Ashildr. “I refuse to be part of whatever this is.”

The grey haired man sauntered over to stand on the right between her and Victor. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice, darling,” he said to her as if she were a child, putting a heavy hand on her right shoulder. “Is everyone ready?” he said in polished English, doing up a stray button on his jacket, clearing his throat as he smoothed it down.

“Ready for what?” said Ashildr, looking around at them. She noticed the sonic sunglasses hanging out of Delta’s right pocket mere inches away from her left hand. They were in easy reach if Delta moved towards her. Ashildr decided to wait it out, rather than snatching for them now. “What are you doing?”

“Shh,” said Delta. “It will be over soon,” she paused, “I’m ready.”

“Ready,” grunted Victor.

“Mike?” the grey haired man leaned forward past the line. They all turned to look at him.

Mike pushed his glasses up his nose, zipping up his hooded jumper an inch, clearly still disgruntled. His acne covered face sneered back at the man. “Yes, I’m ready.” He snapped his fingers loudly.

“Sir,” the guard in front said, almost dismissively. He aimed the grey cube he was holding towards Ashildr, pointing a side that was shimmering aqua blue in their direction. The tall guard pressed a button on the top and the cube lit up, emitting an almost blinding white light.

Ashildr shut her eyes firmly, giving it a few seconds before even attempting to reopen them. The light had subsided, leaving only a red mark on her vision where she had been temporarily blinded.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please may we have your attention,” the grey haired man said. “We have a further announcement.” He directed his gaze towards the screen showing the donation figures. “I can see that many of you have donated to our cause, we are now at,” he paused, “twenty three percent, and at 6.30am I suppose that would mean we are on track to reach our target before midnight. There are, however, many people who have not donated, including some of the wealthiest people in the complex.”

Delta shifted next to her, retrieving something from her left pocket, Ashildr almost had a finger from her left hand on the sunglasses before she pulled away.

“We have the antidote to the infection,” Delta said, to her left. She held a yellow vial in front in her left hand. “This,” she held the vial up to the light above, “this tiny little bottle of liquid has the ability to restore everyone that has been affected by the contagion back to normal. I imagine a lot of you have now lost parents, siblings, children... friends... to the infected. It really is a nasty little virus isn’t it?” she smiled and replaced the vial in her dress pocket, again putting the sunglasses within touching distance of her left hand, only to be glanced away again.

“We have access to the air conditioning systems,” said Mike, “all it would take is all of the money to be donated and we can put it into the vents.” He cleared his throat, “within an hour all of your friends and family will be returned to normal, we can leave and you can return to your discounted shopping day, no hard feelings.”

“However,” said Victor, from the other side, “if you don’t,” he chuckled, “be prepared for a long day here, trying to stay alive.” He put his hands in front and crossed them.

“You may notice that we are have been joined by a very special guest,” the grey haired man continued. He paused, turning his head to the left to glance at her. “We very much want to trace her friend-”

“She’s not my friend,” Ashildr interjected blankly, distracted.

Delta struck her in the ribs hard with her right fist. Ashildr doubled herself over half in pain, half to hide the fact she had swiped the sunglasses into her left hand. She switched them to her right hand and manoeuvred them into her own left jacket pocket out of sight.

“We believe she is going to be very useful to our cause,” the grey haired man said. “Please make yourself known before 10am, either by donating the impressively large amount of money you acquired earlier or presenting yourself at an information point.”

“Anyone that assists finding this woman,” said Delta, “will be granted access to the secure areas away from the infected, including the transportation out of here. She was last seen in the P4 area. Her name is,” she turned to Ashildr, “what’s her name?”

“Her name?” said Ashildr, “you actually think I’m going to tell you her name? Think again,” she smirked.

Delta moved her hand towards the gun in her belt.

“OK, OK,” said Ashildr, playing along, feigning being scared. “Her name is...” she paused, feeling mischievous, “Barry.”

“Anyone that can assist us in finding Barry will be rewarded,” said the man. “We are hoping that if you are watching, Barry, you will have the sense to donate to the cause.” Ashildr let out a small smirk, hoping Clara was watching.

“If you do not make yourself known, we are going to kill your friend here,” Delta said as she took the gun out of her belt with her left hand and placed the barrel against Ashildr’s left temple. “We don’t want to kill her, let that be known, but we will do it.” She put her right hand down hard onto Ashildr’s shoulders. “I will do it,” she sneered.

“Remember, the quicker we get our money, the sooner you can all, we can all go home,” the grey haired man said, smiling. “Thank you for your attention.”

The guard in front turned off the small grey box.

Delta looked at her, twitching her eyelids, not moving the gun. “Don’t you even try to test my patience,” she sneered at her.

“Really?” said Ashildr, “I’m not afraid. Shoot me if you want. I’m no strategic value if you shoot me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” said Delta, pulling the gun away and back into her waistband. She narrowed her eyes one last time and then moved away, clipping her heels back towards the table with the others. The guard handed the grey box to Mike and then returned to his earlier position at the vaulted door.

“It won’t work, you know,” Ashildr shouted to the four of them.

“What won’t?” said the grey haired man, returning to her, the only one in earshot.

“She won’t give you the money or turn herself in,” said Ashildr loudly, “threatening me won’t make her do anything.”

“We’re hoping it will,” said the man.

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” said Ashildr. “I’m the last person in the world she’d want to save, you may as well have a stranger sat here.”

The man folded his arms and looked at her pensively.

“Leave her Charlie,” said Delta to the grey haired man. “She’s obviously trying to get herself killed. She’ll be lucky if we don’t kill her before the deadline.”

Charlie scratched his chin once and then turned on his heel back to the group.

Ashildr smirked to herself. She had the sunglasses, and could get out of the handcuffs if she really wanted. Now she just needed to wait for her opportunity to escape.


	30. Chapter 30 - Clara

Clara looked at image. The Russian man was on the far left, then the grey haired man, Ashildr, the blonde woman and the teenager last on the right. She could see Ashildr was restrained with handcuffs to the right hand side. The grey haired man in the beige trench coat began addressing the audience.

“That’s her,” Clara said, “that’s Me, sat on the chair.” She pointed on to the screen.

“Oh, I see,” said Kodey, “she looks very young.”

“She’s really not,” said Clara as the man continued.

“She looks really familiar...” Kodey trailed off.

“I can see that many of you have donated to our cause, we are now at,” the grey haired man paused directing his eyes upwards, “twenty three percent, and at 6.30am I suppose that would mean we are on track to reach our target before midnight.”

The graphic on the screen displayed 184,698,444,981,324TCC, displaying the time in the top right hand corner. The number of infected stood at 25,776.

Francis blew out a long loud whistle. “That’s a lot of moolah.”

“That number of infections seems to be getting bigger at a very alarming rate,” said Clara, looking at Francis on her right and Kodey on her left.

“There are, however, many people who have not donated, including some of the wealthiest people in the complex.”

The blonde woman took something out of her pocket left pocket, holding it up to the light. It glowed bright yellow, a clear liquid sparkling in the surroundings. “We have the antidote to the infection,” she said.

“There’s an antidote?” said Kodey.

“Shh-” said Clara, putting a hand on his arm, trying to listen.

“This, this tiny little bottle of liquid has the ability to restore everyone that has been affected by the contagion back to normal. I imagine a lot of you have now lost parents, siblings, children... friends... to the infected. It really is a nasty little virus isn’t it?” the blonde woman smiled at the camera and put the vial back into her pocket.

“How are they planning to administer that?” said Clara out loud.

“We have access to the air conditioning systems,” said the teenager on the far right. He scowled, his eyes magnified by his square glasses.

“The air conditioning, of course,” nodded Clara. “Makes sense.”

“All it would take is all of the money to be donated and we can put it into the vents,” the boy continued.

“Also, of course,” said Clara, sarcastically.

“Within an hour all of your friends and family will be returned to normal,” the teenager said, “we can leave and you can return to your discounted shopping day, no hard feelings.”

“However “if you don’t,” said the Russian man on the far left, laughing, “be prepared for a long day here, trying to stay alive.” He crossed his arms and smiled evilly at the camera.

“You may notice that we are have been joined by a very special guest,” the grey haired man continued. “We very much want to trace her friend-”

“She’s not my friend,” Ashildr interrupted him. Clara laughed at her reaction.

“Nice to know you are both on the same page with that,” laughed Francis, smiling at Kodey. Clara rolled her eyes, ignoring them.

The blonde woman hit Ashildr hard in the chest with her fist, causing her to lean forwards. 

“Ouch,” Kodey grimaced.

Clara noticed Ashildr moving her hands oddly. “What is she up to?” she pondered, moving closer to the screen, tapping it. She saw her slip the sunglasses into her jacket pocket. Clara nodded, impressed, smiling to herself.

“We believe she is going to be very useful to our cause,” the grey haired man continued. “Please make yourself known before 10am, either by donating the large amount of money you acquired earlier or presenting yourself at an information point.”

“Anyone that assists finding this woman,” said the blonde, “will be granted access to the secure areas away from the infected, including the transportation out of here.”

A picture of Clara appeared in the right hand top corner of the screen. It was a picture of her standing pointing at a map with Ashildr, obviously taken on some sort of hand held camera as it wasn’t completely in focus.

“Great,” said Clara, under her breath, resigned.

“She was last seen in the P4 area. Her name is,” the woman said looking at Ashildr, “what’s her name?”

“Her name?” said Ashildr to the screen, “you actually think I’m going to tell you her name? Think again,” she smirked.

Clara laughed at her, saying to Francis and Kodey, “she is tougher than she looks, isn’t she?”

The blonde woman reached for a handgun that was wedged into her belt, goading Ashildr.

“OK, OK,” said Ashildr.

“She looks scared,” said Kodey, pointing at Ashildr’s image.

“Hmm...” pondered Clara, “I very much doubt it.”

“Her name is...” Ashildr paused, smiling and raising an eyebrow at the screen.

“What’s she doing?” said Francis.

“She’s trying to come up with a fake name for me,” said Clara, “it had better not be Barry...”

“Barry,” Ashildr smirked.

“Seriously?” said Clara. “I am going to kill her!”

The grey haired man returned his eyes to the screen. “Anyone that can assist us in finding Barry will be rewarded. We are hoping that if you are watching, Barry, you will have the sense to donate to the cause.”

Ashildr smiled widely at the screen.

Clara narrowed her eyes, annoyed. “I really need to give her a different fake name for me.”

“If you do not make yourself known, we are going to kill your friend here,” the blonde woman said as she pulled out the handgun and aimed it at Ashildr’s head. “We don’t want to kill her, let that be known, but we will do it.” She leant down onto Ashildr’s shoulder and sneered, “I will do it.”

“Good luck with that,” said Clara, under her breath.

“Remember, the quicker we get our money, the sooner you can all, we can all go home,” the grey haired man said, smiling. “Thank you for your attention.”

The screen in front of them went completely black again.

“So there is a way I can get my family back?” asked Kodey, pleading with her. “If everyone pays I get Hadija and Luna back, right? We need to do that!”

“At least Sheila is safe,” said Francis, stepping back from the screen, hands on his hips. "I know what you mean Kodey, I'm sure I've seen her before."

“I just can’t figure out where I know her from,” Kodey replied.

“Maybe she just has a really familiar face?” Clara pondered. “Anyway, I’m sure she can look after herself.”

“So if you hand yourself in-” began Kodey.

“I am not handing myself in,” said Clara, turning from the screen to observe their new surroundings.

They were in a large dull grey space, dusty jagged concrete floors in stark contrast to the highly polished marble they had been walking on through the corridor and in the boulevards. The ceiling was high, pocked with large round lights. There were rows and rows of grey shelves, all containing long boxes. Clara could see small dots hovering towards the ceiling, moving around, like a haze of cloud.

“But they said they’d kill her-” said Kodey.

“She’ll live,” dismissed Clara.

“Do you not care about her?” said Kodey. “She’ll die!”

“She’s surprisingly good at avoiding being killed,” Clara replied, before adding, “of course I care about her, but she can look after herself.”

“They obviously know we’re here,” said Francis, looking around.

“But they don’t know exactly where, or know my actual name,” pondered Clara, “so they know they want me, they know what I look like but they don’t know my name, which leads me to believe,” she paused, “they haven’t managed to crack into the data yet, which means... they haven’t got complete control,” Clara smiled widely. “Where are we now?”

“One of the warehouses,” Francis said.

“Where can we go from here?” asked Clara quickly.

“Connects to all the service tunnels,” he said, “but it’s a long way, unless we can find a transporter.”

“A transporter?” said Clara, raising an eyebrow.

“The only way to get around down here,” said Francis. “They are issued at the warehouse entrance.”

“So how do we get to the operations centre?” said Clara, “which way?”

“I say...” said Francis, pondering, hands on his waist, “this way,” he pointed to Clara’s left.

“Ok then,” agreed Clara, “let’s go.” She resettled the shotgun on her shoulder and they began walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am having major computer related issues at the moment so I will try to update this as much as I can for the next couple of weeks :-(
> 
> Just to update you on progress I'm now at 81,475 words and chapter 50 (as of 28/05/2016) ... please stick with me, there is loads more action to come!


	31. Chapter 31 - Ashildr

Ashildr watched as the four of them conversed around the table, clearly making some sort of important decision as they were all nodding. She decided to be patient and wait for an opportunity to escape.

Mike perched on the stool, tapping away on a computer keyboard, occasionally readjusting his map in front of him. He glanced quickly towards Ashildr before addressing the group.

Charlie, Delta and Victor pulled up large white chairs to sit at the opposite side of the table as a large translucent video screen appeared across the centre of the table. Charlie folded his arms, bringing up his right hand to rest on his chin, contemplating what was being said. Delta crossed her legs, smoothing down her shirt dress, and Victor threaded his fingers together, putting them on his stomach, leaning back. He put his feet up onto the table.

Ashildr was unable to see the screen due to a large pillar obscuring the middle so she shifted by leaning to her left. She could see two thirds of the screen now and could now make out an image of a grey corridor with three people walking down it, away from the camera. One of the figures was dressed completely in green, the other wearing a red jumper and the other, in the middle, was much shorter and dressed in black. They watched the feed for a while, not moving, chatting amongst themselves.

Delta pointed at the screen, towards the middle figure, standing up off her chair to reach further. She sat back down, crossing her legs again, folding her arms, pointedly leaning to one side. Mike continued typing, obscured by the projected screen from the others. He stood up from the stool after a few minutes and went to join the others. He jumped up onto one of the empty control banks, his legs swinging a few feet off the ground, grinning widely.

They watched the screen for a few minutes, the angle flickering occasionally as the group on the video feed progressed. Mike tapped Delta on her right shoulder excitedly and pointed at the screen. There were black dots appearing towards the top, hovering above the three figures.

Ashildr decided to use this as her opportunity to free herself, seeing as all four of the group were now thoroughly engaged in the video feed. She took a cautious quick look towards the guards at the door, noticing they too were having a conversation between themselves, distracted.

Ashildr tensed her left wrist, feeling it snapping as it folded in the opposite direction against the metal cuff. She gasped in pain as quietly as she could, letting her hand limply hang to the side as she slipped it out of the restraint. It took a few goes but eventually her hand broke free. It dangled down until the bones and tendons repaired themselves thirty seconds later.

She looked down at her hand, turning her fist around, extending and balling up her fingers as she recovered. She kept her hand still as she glanced over towards the screen. The group were still watching the three figures. Ashildr noticed there were many more black dots hovering at the top of the screen. Mike folded his arms, threw his head back laughing until Delta turned around to hit him as she glared backwards.

Ashildr pushed the arm of the empty handcuff inwards to free it, disguising the click with the occasional stray cough, thankful for having small wrists as it meant she only had to do this twice before she could loop it around to its largest setting. She noticed there was a catch to stop the cuffs going in any further, which she pressed, quickly returning her hand inside. A large black cone shape was showing on the video screen, Ashildr wondered what it was, but was unable to make out any of the finer details.

She debated whether to free her other hand in the same way, as she had already risked being found out, but decided she would to prevent any inconveniences later on. She watched the group to pick her moment, again seeing the door guards distracted. The screen showed a lot of movement, the three figures were now running around, the projection was swirling with black dots.

Ashildr cracked her right wrist, struggling to free this side before the bone repaired. She shifted her hand again, eventually managing to release the right cuff, accidentally tapping on the metal of the arm rest loudly.

The guards to her right stopped their conversation. She quickly made some more tapping noises and pretended to struggle against the cuffs.

“You can’t keep me here!” Ashildr shouted, to cover up the loud clicking of the right cuff. “Let me go!”

Charlie looked over towards her, shook his head and then returned his gaze to the video screen, showing the black figure running quickly away from a storm of black dots.

Ashildr tapped the cuffs on the arm rest several more times for show, stretching out the fingers of her right hand, casually realising she had lost the fake skin barcode. Ashildr wondered to herself when she had lost it, looking around on her lap and on the floor to no avail, sighing to herself.

She looked up at the time, it was 08.45am. Ashildr flipped the catch on the second cuff to keep it on the widest setting and replaced both her hands, knowing she was in for a long wait until she could move.

The group continued watching the feed, it showed a close up of the figure dressed in black, swinging some sort of pole around wildly whilst running, trying to fight off the black dots. The camera focussed on the figure’s face, it appeared large enough for her to see.

It was Clara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make no apologies for this being a short chapter :-)
> 
> Anyone got any theories as to where I'm going with this fic?
> 
> (All of the main story lines have already been heavily threaded in so do your worst!)


	32. Chapter 32 - Clara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for leaving such a gap between posting, between computer issues and having a life this week I haven't had time - please stick with me, all the action is starting now!

“So this plan of yours,” said Francis as the three of them continued along the edge of the warehouse. “What is it?” 

They had been walking for about thirty minutes. Clara went to check the time on her phone, noticing it was 17.58, forgetting it was set to November 2015. She made a mental note to invest in a watch for the next adventure, should she survive this one. She sighed, knowing she was going to have to give them something. She thought back to all the times she had asked the Doctor what his plan was and he had given her a vague answer, now she was on her own she knew how he felt. She unconsciously zipped up her pockets as she walked.

“Well, OK,” she said. “In no particular order, save all the people in here, find Ashildr, release the antidote and stop the impending nuclear bomb that is-“ she stopped herself, saying slowly, “very likely to be set off.”

“And how are you going to do all of that?” said Kodey, hands in his trouser pockets.

“The details aren’t important,” said Clara, vaguely, stepping over a track of wires on the dusty floor.

“All I want is my family back,” sighed Kodey.

“I am going to sort this,” said Clara, as confidently as she could muster, “we are going to fix this, OK?” Clara put her left arm around his shoulder reassuringly. “I know what it is like to lose someone you love, I really, really do, but right now we have to concentrate on us three staying alive. We are much safer here, together than we were out there, with all the,” she did her charades impression of a monster, “killer zombie monster things running around, aren’t we?”

Kodey nodded, lowering his head. She let him go as they continued walking.

Francis laughed out loud. “I was meaning to say,” he impersonated her earlier charades impression, “is that how we are describing them?”

Kodey managed to raise a laugh.

“I had to come up with something quickly,” Clara smiled. “It conveyed a message, didn’t it? If you can find something better, let me know.”

The three of them laughed as they progressed along the wall of the warehouse, unable to see where the area ended.

Clara became acutely aware of a faint buzzing to her right hand side, as if there were a swarm of bees approaching. She gazed up to the ceiling.

“Can anyone else hear that noise?” Clara asked, still walking. “Or am I imagining it?”

“Oh, that’s probably just the bots,” said Francis.

“Bots?” Clara creased her eyebrows.

“They bring all the components and take the finished products to the packaging area,” said Francis. “They must pack fairly light items over here as they are quite small.”

“So this is where they store all the products?” asked Clara, walking on.

“They store all the components and then print the products,” said Francis.

“Print them?” Clara raised an eyebrow.

“Where have you been for the last thousand years, under a rock?” Francis laughed.

“I’ve been, umm... away,” Clara squirmed.

“This place does so well because it manufactures the products here... minimal labour costs, no supply chain, no stockholding,” Francis said, walking to her right, “you get the picture.”

“Efficient,” said Clara, “like it.”

“That’s how they can afford to offer the discounts they do,” nodded Francis, pointing towards the right.

Clara looked out towards the warehouse shelves, now able to see various things being carried off into the far distance. “So like drones then?”

“Drones?” Francis laughed heartily. “Please!”

“How old are you actually? From the dark age?” Kodey said, incredulous.

“I’m twenty nine,” smiled Clara, “thanks very much and really not from around here.” The buzzing noise got louder. Clara suddenly noticed a large pack of black dots hovering above them. “Err, should they be doing that?” Clara gazed upwards slowing down, pointing, getting a sinking feeling.

“They are usually confined to the perimeter of the production area,” said Francis, inspecting the ceiling. “It is highly irregular.”

The cloud of black dots was becoming more intense, beginning to obscure the ceiling one hundred feet above them. It was rapidly growing in size

“I am getting a very, very bad feeling about this,” said Clara, still walking with her head aimed upward, “anyone else?”

Kodey and Francis both nodded as the black swarm lowered in front and behind them. Clara could see the individual bots now, they were each the size of a Magic 8 Ball, moving as if they were connected with a loose fabric that was tightening.

“On a scale of one to ten,” Clara stopped still, the bots preventing them from progressing in any direction, she spun around, “one being I’ve never run in my life and ten being professional marathon runner, how good are we all at running?” she asked almost rhetorically.

"Probably a seven, maybe eight," said Francis.

"Four," said Kodey.

"I'm definitely eight or nine," Clara said smugly, "depending on the conditions... and clothing," she looked down at her clothes, “what I’m wearing... not ideal, need to remember that for next time.”

Kodey and Francis both looked around them, arms out, as the black spheres began to hem them in. Clara took the shotgun off her back slowly, holding it by the barrel, wielding it like a baseball bat. The space was becoming narrower by the second, until Clara felt she was in an area the size of a large tent, the spheres so dense the warehouse was barely visible.

“When I say run,” Clara paused, lining up a section of spheres to aim the shotgun at, “run, OK?”

Francis and Kodey both nodded as they stood back to back with her.

Clara swung the stock of the shotgun out towards the spheres, sending them scattering like marbles towards the floor, making a scratching noise as they impacted.

“Run!” shouted Clara as she slipped through the gap, followed by Francis and then Kodey, they all began running quickly in the same direction they had been walking in. Her shoes skidded on the dusty floor as she tried to keep herself upright. 

Clara turned her head backwards to see the bots that had been knocked to the ground resetting and swiftly zipping off in their direction. She held the shotgun in her right hand as she ran, noticing a large amount of bots shooting past them in all directions. A stream of spheres was pushing the three of them apart. Francis was just about keeping up with her, despite his smart shoes struggling to grip the dusty floor. Kodey had fallen behind a little.

“Try and keep together,” Clara shouted loudly as they all sprinted forward. Her vision was becoming a faint black haze, surrounded by black spheres. She swung the shotgun again, clearing the way, sending bots in all directions. She couldn’t see Francis or Kodey behind her any more, just seeing a thick black smoke like colouring.

“Francis?! Kodey!” she bellowed out, breathing heavily. “Are you still with me?”

“Yeah,” said Francis close behind.

“Yes!” shouted Kodey, a small distance away.

Clara slowed her running to a fast jog, feeling adrenaline pump through her body. She swung the gun again, moving many bots out of the way for them to be swiftly replaced by more. A bot grazed her right shoulder, clinging onto her leather jacket with two small pincers. She hit it with the gun and it fell off to the ground as she continued jogging, beginning to tire slightly.

“What are we going to do?” said Francis breathily, catching up behind her, brushing off several bots that had attached to the front of his jacket.

“I don’t know,” said Clara, still running, swatting away a few bots that had got close to her face. “Kodey!” Clara shouted loudly.

“Yes,” Kodey bellowed, clearly from a distance.

Clara slowed down a little, allowing Francis to draw level with her, swinging the gun again. She could hear footsteps behind them, getting closer.

Kodey appeared through the haze, covered in bots attached to his red jumper. He picked several off and threw them to the ground. Clara accidentally trod on one of the spheres, it shattered like glass under her foot like a Christmas bauble. Another bot took a swipe at her face, she just managed to duck out of the way of the sharp pincer.

“Kodey,” said Clara loudly, through ragged breaths, “you do weapons, how do we turn these things off?”

“We need-” he panted, struggling to keep up, “electromagnetic pulse.”

“Oh, hang on, let me check,” Clara said sarcastically, “I’m flat out of electromagnetic pulses... can you make one?” She heavily threw a bot off her left chest and it smashed loudly on the ground. “They appear to be trying to slash us now!”

“I need electrical equipment,” Kodey said. “And a few days.”

“Not sure that is a viable option right now... OK, so try and smash them on the floor,” said Clara, “that seems to work.”

“Could we not go towards the aisles?” said Francis, jacket now torn in several places, “might give us a bit of cover?”

“Good idea,” said Clara, jogging still, trying to aim as many of the bots attached to her directly at the floor. “Try to find something you can use to smash them with,” said Clara still jogging, picking another bot off her left shoulder.

“What are they trying to do?” said Francis, through heavy breaths, “kill us?” He brushed off five bots off his right arm, a couple shattered on the ground.

“They can’t be trying to kill us,” said Clara, “we are no use dead. They’re trying to attach, maybe to take us somewhere?”

“Maybe we should let them?” said Kodey panting loudly, “might be easier.”

“They are trying to slash my face,” said Clara, jogging, “I generally don’t tend to go with things that are trying to cut me open!”

“Let’s try the aisles,” said Francis, “we can’t run forever.”

“Agreed,” Clara said as she and Francis veered sharply right towards the aisled section, Kodey realised what they were doing and went in the same direction.

The bots followed, still attaching themselves to Clara’s jacket. She shattered at least another ten below her feet as she swung the gun, aiming the stock towards the floor.

“Split up!” shouted Clara, as they approached the ends of the aisled section.

Clara ran slowly between the ten foot wide aisle, seeing it towering over her. A large number of bots zoomed after her, but nowhere near as many as there had been. She stopped running, half to have a rest and half to search for somewhere to hide or a way to fight back. She felt something cut painfully into the back of her neck, immediately turning around to throw the offending bot to the floor with a loud crash. There was nowhere to hide or anything to use to attack. 

Clara began running again before she had a chance to inspect her injury, slinging the gun over her right shoulder so she could use her arms to protect her head, using her hands to throw any bots that attached to her onto the concrete. They were beginning to hem her in again, attacking her clothes and extending sharp pincers in her direction. She could see no way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will post the next one when I can :-)


	33. Chapter 33 - Ashildr/Clara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Computer issues have now been resolved!! I'm back on this now, chapter a day for the foreseeable.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me :-)

Ashildr watched the video screen, seeing Clara from a bird’s eye view, swinging the pole she was carrying wildly whilst running. Two other figures were jogging next to her, surrounded by an intense swarm of black dots. She was immediately concerned, knowing how easily Clara could be hurt.

Charlie sat with his legs folded, arms crossed, his right finger pressed against his lips, pensive in thought. Delta was watching the screen intently, sat on the edge of her seat, elbows on the table, her fingers threaded. Victor was still leaning back in the chair, right hand in his pocket, running his left hand over his bald head slowly. Mike was pacing behind the chairs. They were clearly happy to let whatever was happening play out, none of them were making any attempt to move, transfixed by the video feed. It now showed Clara running down what appeared to be a dimly lit corridor. She stopped after a minute, Ashildr watched her spin around on the spot, throwing a few black dots off her.

Ashildr was beginning to weigh various options in her head of how she could help Clara. She wondered if it was feasible to use the sunglasses to do something, even though the only thing she’d been able to do previously was to see in the dark. Ashildr remembered the first time she had met Clara, when she had asked her to aim the glasses at her chains and think about opening them. She was sure she had read that in one of her journals, the section she had always kept with her about when the Doctor saved her life the first time they met.

She took a cautious glance towards the two guards standing outside of the door, seeing them still deep in conversation, distracted. She removed her left hand from the handcuffs and reached into her left pocket, retrieving the sunglasses quickly leaning over to unfold them and place them on her face.

Her vision turned blue, displaying a tiny arrow in the right hand side as it had done for her last time, presumably indicating where Clara was in relation to her. She aimed her gaze at the computer screen that Mike had been working on. She thought about helping Clara, stopping her being attacked by the black dots.

Nothing happened. She was beginning to get nervous, in case she was seen. She tried again, glaring at the screen, concentrating on saving Clara, desperately wishing there was a small fire or a computer failure to make that happen.

......

Clara spotted a recurring gap in the racking to her left as she was running that was just wide enough for her to pass through. She lined one up twelve paces in front of her picking off a machine hanging on her left forearm, throwing it the ground.

Clara breathed in tightly as she just about managed to squeeze through the gap between the two shelving units, emerging out of the other side, this time seeing only a handful of bots around her, stepping on one that was a foot from the floor, she decided to keep running down the aisle, slipping roughly through the next available gap between the units on her left. Her right forearm snagged gently as she tried to push herself out, leaving a small tear in the upper arm of her jacket.

She couldn’t see any bots following her, but could hear the now familiar hum travelling through the air. Clara spied gap to the next aisle that she could easily hop through, stepping with loud bangs onto the metal of the shelving unit, emerging to the other side. She repeated this manoeuvre another handful of times, jogging gently as she noticed a large half empty dark metal box on her left, six foot long and three feet wide and deep, with an open lid that was easily big enough to hide in.

She jumped up onto the shelving unit as quietly as she could, taking the gun off and throwing it inside, swinging her legs over to sit down inside on top of what appeared to be rolls of white rubber plastic tubing. She quickly pulled the lid down on top of the box, noticing it was perforated with tiny holes, providing enough cover to hide her but also allowing her to see outside. She exhaled heavily from the exertion.

Clara twisted herself to the side to rest on the tubing uncomfortably, trying not to move a muscle. She slowed her breathing, forgetting that she didn’t actually need to any more, stopping completely and allowed her eyes to watch the area, staying stock still.

Clara saw the bots examining the area for her, there were a handful hovering over the top of the box, backlit by the lights from the ceiling. She didn’t move a muscle, waiting for them to pass, trying think of any other way she could fight back but coming up with nothing. If she had the sonic sunglasses she could have sent a pulse directly to them, which could have ended this half an hour ago.

The spheres flew quickly away, deciding to stay put for the time being, hoping something would happen to stop the bots. She exhaled gently, preparing herself for a long wait.

Ten minutes later a loud blast sounded, as if a rechargeable weapon had been fired, accompanied by a blinding flash which left red dots on the retinas of her eyes due to the perforated material. A second later there was a loud smashing sound, as if a large pane of glass had shattered into a million pieces.

..............

A small spark came from the other end of the table. Ashildr instantly removed the sunglasses, folding them back up, putting them in her pocket and realigning her hand inside the cuffs. She sat back up in the chair, trying not to smile.

Mike paced quickly around the table towards the stool where he had been sitting earlier, trying to take stock of what was happening. A small fire was now burning out of the table, the video screen had gone blank, Mike paced quickly away towards the door, searching for something. Victor instantly took off his green and silver jacket and began thumping it down on to the fire, not extinguishing it, instead setting his jacket alight.

Mike returned with a handheld spray which he aimed quickly at the fire and then at Victor’s jacket, sending up a white puff of smoke all around. Victor choked to the back of his throat, holding his right fist up to his mouth as he coughed loudly, walking towards Ashildr out of the area.

“Victor!” Mike spat loudly, stepping away, “you don’t fight a computer fire with a jacket! That might be how you deal with things at home, but not-”

“Do not talk to me like that, little man!” Victor retorted angrily, patting down his charred jacket, fishing in the pockets before throwing it aside. He smoothed down a grey jumper that made his broad frame and large muscles achingly visible.

Mike groaned, waving away the white smoke around him. It dissipated after a few minutes.

Delta and Charlie remained on the other side of the table, discussing something between themselves. Mike returned to the console and dropped his head, removing his glasses to rub his eyes. He said something to the group, before readjusting his glasses on his face.

Ashildr allowed herself a wry smile, feeling very happy that she had started a small fire with just a pair of sunglasses.


	34. Chapter 34 - Clara

Clara remained where she was for a few minutes before attempting to move, she cautiously heaved her body up, uncomfortable from lying directly onto the shotgun. She carefully lifted up the lid of the box with her right hand, the perforation digging into the pads of her fingertips as it creaked open, heavier than she remembered.

She opened the lid a few inches and peered out, listening for the buzzing noise, looking to the ground and seeing it covered completely in black glass shards. Clara pushed the lid of the box fully backwards, balancing on the rolls of tubing, it landed against the rear edge with a large clatter. She picked up the shotgun, slung it over her right shoulder and hopped out of the box down to the floor. Her shoes crunched down loudly on at least an inch worth of broken black glass. She crouched down to inspect the ground, realising it was remnants of the black bots.

She laughed out loud, picking up a large piece of glass and inspecting it between her fingers, holding it up to the light, the black frosting tinting the illumination grey. Clara stood up and dropped the shard to the floor with a soft clink. She brushed the sleeves of her jacket, pulled her dress down and went back in the direction she had come, crunching glass like gravel underneath her feet.

After ten minutes of cautious walking, almost falling over a few times, she emerged from the end of the aisle. In the open space the rough concrete floor was pock marked with the occasional bots. She wondered what had happened, pondering whether Kodey had found a way to make a pulse.

Now she was out in the light she inspected herself for damage, looking at a large hole in her tights above the right knee, a sharp slice wound visible in the middle. There was a small rip in the right upper arm of her jacket, she was thankful it had been zipped up. A few scratch marks on her left hand. She felt the back of her neck, feeling it painful against the collar of her jacket, bringing back a small spot of blood on her fingertip. She rubbed it away onto her thumb. She tried to brush off as much residual dust as possible as she retraced her steps looking for the others.

“Francis?” she shouted as loudly as possible. “Kodey?”

She listened intently for a reply, hearing nothing. She called out again, still hearing nothing. She wandered back in the direction she approximated they would have been in.

Clara heard an urgent set of crunching footprints approaching in front of her, pacing quickly towards the source of the noise. Kodey appeared in front of her, carrying a crowbar in his left hand. His red jumper had numerous slash marks in it, displaying a white t-shirt and bare skin.

“Kodey!” said Clara, running up to him and hugging him. “I’m so glad you are OK!” He gripped her tightly.

He nodded, pulling away, accidentally dropping the crowbar on the floor with a metallic clang. “What just happened? How did they just all smash like that?”

“I have no idea, I thought maybe you might have done something?” said Clara. She unzipped her jacket to lean against a nearby shelving unit.

“No,” said Kodey, shaking his head, “I hid underneath one of the shelves,” he looked away sheepishly. “I picked this up about a minute ago.”

“It’s OK,” Clara smiled, “I hid inside a metal box,” she laughed, “just don’t tell anyone.” She held up her right index finger to her lips cheekily.

Kodey smiled back at her.

“Have you seen Francis?” Clara asked.

“No,” he replied, “have you?”

“Francis!” Clara called out loudly, moving away. Kodey picked up the crowbar, putting the straight edge between his belt and trousers on his side, leaving it hooked on by the curved end.

There was a faint high pitched whistling, accompanied by a sound of glass being brushed aside, the volume increased, Clara instinctively pulled Kodey behind her, facing the direction of the noise.

A vehicle the size and shape of a golf cart whooshed out ten or so aisles in front of them, it turned in their direction softly and came to a smooth halt a few feet in front, crunching on the glass.

“Looks like today is our lucky day,” said Francis, getting out, flashing a perfect smile. His green suit had small tears in it, the collar and chest of his grey shirt was damp with sweat.

“What is this?” said Clara curiously, walking around the vehicle. It looked identical to a transportation pod, but the frame was bolted to four proper wheels. Both sides were open and raised up. All of the seats faced forward. “Pod on wheels?”

“Transporter,” Francis nodded, “I found it down one of the aisles.” He ran his left hand through his damp hair, flashing his silver watch.

“Nice work!” Clara exclaimed, running her hand along the smooth glass outer. “How did you get away from those things?” she enquired.

“Oh, umm, I fought my way against them,” he said nervously.

Clara recognised the look he was giving out. “Did you hide as well?” she laughed.

Francis nodded, knowing he;d been caught out. “So what happened to all those things?”

“I would say some sort of pulse, given the sound and the flash of light,” said Kodey.

“Yeah, it was almost like a rechargeable weapon... discharging, wasn’t it?” mused Clara.

“Why am I not surprised you know that?” Kodey said, raising an eyebrow. “That is exactly what it sounded like.”

Clara laughed. “Well, it seems we are all very proficient in running away and hiding, aren’t we?” she smiled. “That is a very useful skill. Again, not wishing to prejudge the situation,” said Clara, “but I think we should get away from here,” she pointed around her, “as quickly as possible before any more of those things come back, agreed?”

“Agreed,” said Francis. Kodey nodded.

“Shotgun,” said Clara, making her way to the front passenger seat.

Francis creased his eyebrows.

Kodey looked at her nonplussed. “It’s on your back?” he said, confused.

“Yes I know that,” she said, resigned. “Oh never mind, is nobody going to get any of my popular culture references today? Never seen The Inbetweeners?” She sighed loudly as they both looked at her as if she had grown an extra head. “No?" Clara jumped up into the seat, shrugging off the gun, resting the stock on the base of the pod in front of her.

“Anyone else boiling?” Francis said as took off his jacket, folding it up and throwing it onto the empty seat behind Clara as he stepped up to her right. “How are you still in that thing?” he asked, indicating her leather coat.

Kodey hopped in, dropping the crowbar on the lower glass with a resounding clank, he left it there.

“I kind of don’t get hot or cold,” Clara said blankly, “nothing to worry about.”

“OK...” said Francis, creasing his eyebrows as he pressed a green button in the centre of the steering wheel. The sides of the pod lowered. “Everyone in?” he said, eyes bright. The white metal seatbelt appeared around her waist, clunking shut.

The transporter powered up slowly, and then sped off much faster than Clara was expecting in the direction they had been heading before the bots swarmed. Clara grimaced, closing her eyes as the movement pressed her backwards in the seat.

A small screen in the front of the dashboard pushed out horizontally, flipped up and switched itself on.


	35. Chapter 35 - Ashildr/Clara

The group had been discussing something between themselves for over half an hour when Ashildr noticed the time was edging close to 10am. The charred remains of Mike’s workstation were still smoking slightly. There was an acrid smell and taste of burnt plastic in the air.

The two guards by the door were stood with hands on their guns, fingers resting above the triggers. The shorter of the two had his gun pointed squarely in her direction. The taller man had his gun resting on his chest diagonally.

At 9.55am she noticed Delta and Charlie making their way over towards where she was sat. Her hands were loose in the cuffs, waiting for the ideal opportunity to break free, or obtain something useful.

“Looks like your friend-” Delta started, a wide smile on her face.

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you,” Ashildr said impassioned, rolling her eyes, “she’s not my friend.”

“Whatever she is, it looks like she doesn’t want to save you,” she sneered. The clock ticked over to 9.56am.

“Of course she doesn’t,” nodded Ashildr, “I told you, she wouldn’t save me, if you’d used a lost child, a homeless puppy or a kitten you might have had a better chance,” Ashildr smirked.

“We’ll give her the benefit of the doubt for the next four,” Charlie paused, “three minutes, shall we?”

“She won’t save me, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you,” mused Ashildr, unblinking. She stared into Delta’s eyes.

“A few more minutes and we’ll know for sure,” said Charlie. “Victor, come over, Mike, bring your box, we may need to do another announcement shortly.”

“She also won’t give you the money,” goaded Ashildr to Delta, still glaring at her.

Delta moved towards Ashildr, putting her hands on the armrests of the chair again, moving within an inch of her nose. “She will give us the money,” sneered Delta, “we will make her. Even if we have to kill you in the process.” Ashildr could feel Delta’s breath on her own face as she spoke and could smell a faint hint of a floral perfume. “Even if we have to kill everybody in this place. There are thousands of people just like her in here today, able to donate an amount with nine figures. By the end of today, I’ll have two hundred trillion credits, more than I could ever earn in over a billion lifetimes,” she grinned widely.

“What are you going to do with the money?” asked Ashildr. Victor, Mike and Charlie were huddled together, presumably deciding who would say what.

“I’ll be able to have anything I want,” smiled Delta. “I’ll be able to live like some of the people who are here, the sort of people who can afford to gamble a million credits on red or black and wave it away as a bad day at the office if they lose.”

“You will turn into the person that you most despise,” pointed out Ashildr.

“And I will not bat an eyelid,” snapped Delta. “I’ve had nothing for all of my thirty four years-”

“Thirty four years! Wow, that is a long time,” said Ashildr sarcastically. “I thought you were older. Maybe you should try a few millennia in my shoes.”

“It appears the deadline has come and gone,” said Charlie, returning to them both, stroking his chin whilst yawning.

“I wouldn’t take it personally,” said Delta, still leaning over her. “Maybe she’s forgotten... should we jog her memory Charlie?” Delta stood up and away from her.

“She will stop you, whatever you do to me,” Ashildr warned, “it’s kind of what she does these days.”

“What? Someone who lists her special skill as ‘I can name all of the Sugababes?’” Delta snorted. “Please... give us some credit.”

Ashildr agreed with her completely, but decided to raise an eyebrow silently in her direction. “Do not underestimate her,” Ashildr said blankly.

“Delta,” said Charlie, pulling her back by shoulder. “Leave her.” He turned to Ashildr. “If you do not stop talking we will have to make you. Is that understood?”

Ashildr smirked back at him, not speaking, if only to goad Delta.

“Good,” Charlie nodded, scratching his stubble as he pulled away. “I’m glad we have an understanding.”

Mike stood with the camera pointed at them, Victor had his arms folded next to him. Charlie moved to Ashildr’s right, putting his left hand heavily on her shoulder. Delta stood to her left.

“Let’s get this over with,” said Charlie, “this is distracting from our main mission. Mike, if you would, please.”

A bright light emitted from the small grey box Mike was holding, dimming down to nothing after a few seconds.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the TCM, we have an announcement,” said Charlie.

“It appears that the person we are seeking, Barry, has not donated money or handed themselves in at an information point,” said Delta in the harsh American tone. “This is very disappointing news as it is now 10.05am the deadline has not been met. We were hoping it would not come to this.”

Charlie pulled out a dull grey handgun from his right pocket and aimed it at Ashildr’s right temple.

“We here at the Anti-Greed Alliance are understanding,” said Charlie, “which is why we are going to give Barry one more hour to make themselves known.”

“At 11am, if we have not heard from you, we are going to put this one,” Delta said, as Charlie pressed the gun harder on Ashildr’s temple, “along with a large detonation charge into the Volito and see what happens... when it goes bang.” Ashildr could sense that Delta was smiling.

..............

 

“Err, what’s the Volito?” asked Clara, watching the small screen in the dashboard, the pod was still travelling at breakneck speed in the same direction, no end in sight.

“You don’t know the Volito?” said Kodey, pulling up as far forward as his seatbelt allowed him. “It’s the tube when you can go and float out in space. My daughter loves it,” he said quietly, “loved it,” he corrected himself.

“Ohhh,” said Clara, remembering Tim had told her about that earlier. “So they’re threatening to send her out into space, floating away basically?”

“Seems that way,” said Francis, steering to avoid a large metal box on the floor and then returning to the original route. They were all thrown quickly to the left hand side, Clara clung on to a handle on the dashboard.

Clara watched as Ashildr looked directly at the camera, completely unfazed by what was happening, raising a small smile.

“Shoot me then,” said Ashildr on the screen. She held up her left hand, inviting the man on the left to shoot her before folding her arms, leaning back in the chair.

“Hang on,” said Clara, noticing something. “No...” She let out a small laugh.

“Don’t say another word,” the blonde woman on the right warned, reaching for something on her stomach, patting it down.

“Looking for this?” said Ashildr smiling widely, holding a gun in her right hand. “Sorry, I think you’ll find this is mine now,” she pulled on the cartridge on the top to load it. The video feed began to shake around.

Ashildr leaned forward standing up quickly, turning her back to the screen, pointing the gun between the woman’s eyes. The grey haired man had his gun trained on Ashildr’s head with his right hand. Ashildr backed up off to the right of the screen, as two soldiers dressed completely in black rushed from the left. The video feed went hazy, there was unmistakable sound of a gunshot and then the screen turned black.

“See, I told you,” said Clara, impressed, pointing at the screen, “she can look after herself,” she smirked.


	36. Chapter 36 - Clara

Clara, Francis and Kodey sat in silence as the pod continued apace along the edge of the warehouse for ten minutes until they reached a wall and a small doorway. Francis quickly slowed the pod to a halt, skidding it to the right side to stop inches before the end, as if he had not noticed it in time. All three of them were hauled roughly forward and then to the left, exhaling heavily .

“Where did you learn to drive?” Clara asked rhetorically, unimpressed, half winded by the sudden stop.

Francis pressed the button in the middle of the steering wheel and the side panels rose up gently. The white seatbelts released with a loud clank. “And this is where we get out,” said Francis, smiling widely. He jumped down to the ground, tucking in his shirt where it had come out at the back.

Clara looked to her left, seeing a gap of four inches. “Who do you think I am? Kate Moss?” she said, laughing.

“Who’s Kate Moss?” asked Kodey as he prepared to get out.

“Oh, never mind,” she said, resigned, “I’m still trying to be funny, but it’s clearly lost of you both, so just ignore me.”

Kodey stepped down, picking up the crowbar off the bottom of the pod with a loud scraping clink. He threaded it through his belt loop again and reached back inside to grab Francis’ jacket, throwing it roughly towards him.

Clara passed out the shotgun, contorting herself ungracefully around the seats to get out, hopping to the concrete floor with a sharp scrape, subconsciously pulling her dress down. She felt a little unsteady on her feet for a few seconds, propping herself up on the side of the pod as the dizziness subsided. She picked up the shotgun and slung it over her right shoulder again.

“This is a very big warehouse,” said Clara as she checked her pockets to make sure she had everything. “We were walking for a good hour, then running and then in this thing for twenty minutes or so, weren’t we?”

“Each one of them is one hundred miles long,” said Francis, putting on his ripped jacket.

Kodey blew out a low whistle, pulling up the sleeves of his red jumper.

“One hundred miles?” said Clara, making her way to the small door. It was six foot wide. “We would have been walking for days if you’d not found the transporter!” Clara smiled at him. “Everything about this place is just... big, isn’t it?”

Francis laughed behind her. “If you say so... isn’t bigger always better?”

“Where does this door go then?” said Clara whilst rolling her eyes, changing the subject, pointing towards the grey windowless shutter door.

“Probably more service corridors,” said Francis, laughing at her, “and the next warehouse, probably.”

“The next warehouse?” said Clara, unsure why she was surprised, “please don’t tell me we have to go through all of this… again?”

“Hopefully there will be a transmitter or a pod for us to go in,” said Francis, looking at his silver watch. “You’ve only got forty five minutes until they throw Sheila out.”

“I am so going to start calling her that name,” Clara smiled. “But I’m not worried about her.”

“Why not?” said Kodey, “if that were my friend I’d be doing everything I could to get her back. You keep saying ‘she’ll be fine’ but not making any attempt to help her. Why?”

Clara put a finger to her lips, pausing before responding. “I’m not worried about her, because... she can’t die.”

“What?” said Francis, incredulous, hands on his hips. “She can’t die? Good one.”

“Correct,” said Clara, looking for the slot to put her hand into near the door.

“Everyone dies,” said Francis, stopping her moving by her shoulder, “what do you mean, she can’t die?”

“If they shoot her, her body heals,” she sighed. “Yesterday she was shot a handful of times, she fell sixty stories off a crane and she impaled herself on some railings. She’s also been knocking around for quite a while, so yes, forgive me for not worrying about her.”

“What is she?” asked Kodey. “We’ve been working on body repair tech in the lab.”

“She’s... immortal,” said Clara. “She just does not die.”

“Immortal,” snorted Kodey, “yeah right. Immortality is a myth, a fairy story.”

“Trust me, it’s not, she’s immortal,” said Clara, beginning to regret telling them, “but we have more pressing things to worry about.”

“How is she immortal?” asked Kodey, still making fun of her.

“That... that is a very long story,” Clara said, “which I will be more than happy to tell you tomorrow once we’re all sat comfortably in the pub laughing and reminiscing about the fact we were almost killed in a zombie apocalypse yesterday, OK?”

“Are you immortal?” Francis asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I’m not,” said Clara, sighing loudly, “I’m sort of perpetually dead, and again, that, I think, is something we can cover tomorrow.” Clara reached for the skin graft in her left pocket, pulling it out, preparing to scan it when Kodey stopped her.

“Is that a good idea?”

Clara looked down at her hand. “It’s the only thing that worked on the last couple of doors?” she said perplexed.

“They sent the drones after us, so they must know we’re here, you said it yourself,” he paused for breath, “they didn’t know your name, so they must not have got into the mainframe yet.”

“Good point,” said Clara, nodding in agreement. “I wonder how they got Ashildr’s credentials and no-one else’s?”

“Let me try,” said Francis, pushing past, “I should have clearance for all of the warehouse levels, I was in one on the other side earlier.” He flashed a perfect smile at her. “Nothing unusual about that, is there?”

“Not at all, go ahead,” said Clara, stepping away from the door.

Francis scanned his hand and the shutter began to open.

“Nice,” said Clara smiling, “looks like you’re a good person to know. We need to be ready to go, OK? Like last time, in case they stop the door.” She looked at them, waiting for them to acknowledge.

Francis and Kodey both nodded back at her as they all waited for the door to lift high enough. It got to head height and they all ducked under it successfully. They were in a pitch black area, illuminated only by the light from the door opening. Clara made to get her phone out of her pocket again to use as a torch, but stopped when the lights above suddenly blinked to life.

They were in a large room full of disused equipment. Clara saw what appeared to be parts of metal shelving units, discarded video screens and many white fridge sized boxes. All of the items were covered in a thin layer of dust. Several large white marble statues were in the middle of the space, appearing to be depicting a small man in various powerful poses.

“What is this place?” said Clara as the door began to close behind them. 

“Broken or unused equipment by the looks of it,” Francis said. “Do you have your map?”

Clara fished into her pocket and threw him over the red square. He caught it easily and put it on top of one of the white boxes, opening it up.

"Who are those statues of?" Clara asked, heading in their direction. 

“Oh, that’s the bloke that built this place,” Francis replied, inspecting the hologram coming out of the map. “Charles Dalstram II.”

“That’s him? He looks like a child!” she reflected looking at the large statues. “Saying that, maybe that would explain why everything is so big in this place,” she said wryly, laughing to herself, “maybe he’s overcompensating for some-”

There was a loud clatter of metal towards Clara’s left side that caused them all to turn around. Clara looked back to Francis and Kodey cautiously, taking the shotgun off her shoulder to hold it in her hands.

A heavy object rattled onto the jagged concrete floor in front of her. She searched for something to associate the noise with but couldn’t see anything moving. Clara tentatively moved a few paces forward, right index finger resting near the trigger. She heard a small yelp as she progressed further. Kodey and Francis stayed where they were, the holographic projection from the map spinning around gently in front of them.

Another crash accompanied a shelving unit falling down which Clara caught out of the corner of her right eye. She aimed herself in the direction of the noise, glancing nervously back, as she began moving between large pieces of metal and video screens.

Clara heard a small sniffling noise as she approached the area she had seen the falling unit. She felt something grab both of her legs, immediately pulling away in shock and pointing the gun in front of her. She gazed down and saw a young child sat on the floor wiping their nose, crying heavily, half shaded by the shadows cast by tall equipment all around.

“Hello?” said Clara softly, instinctively lowering the gun and putting it on the ground as she crouched down. The concrete scratched her right leg roughly due to the ripped tights.

“I- I- I-,” sobbed the child, “can’t f- f- find my mummy and daddy.”

“Where did you last see them?” asked Clara, sitting up on her knees. Her eyes adjusted to the low light. She could make out the blonde child was wearing baby pink dungarees, a white jacket and black shoes. Her hair was tied up in loose pigtails. She looked about four years old, her face was red, glistening in the light due to crying. She couldn’t discern any purple mottling on her skin, presuming she hadn’t been infected.

“I-I-I don’t know,” the child faltered. “Big purple man took them away.”

“Oh, it’s OK, come here,” said Clara, feeling her instincts kicking in, holding out her arms. The child walked over to Clara and hugged her, sobbing heavily. “What’s your name?”

“Sky,” she sniffled lightly into Clara’s left shoulder.

“That’s a very pretty name,” said Clara, smiling, “and how old are you?”

“F-f-f-five,” Sky stammered.

“You’re five?” said Clara, pulling away to look at her, holding an arm reassuringly in each of her hands. “And you’ve lost your mummy and daddy?”

Sky nodded in front of her.

“Well we need to find them, then, don’t we?” she said, brushing Sky’s hair from the left hand side of her face, out of her eyes. “I’m Clara,” she said, looking directly at Sky.

“C-C-C-Claaara?” asked Sky, her chin wobbling gently.

“That’s right, Clara,” Clara smiled warmly at her.

“What’s happening?” whispered Francis, appearing behind her.

“It’s OK,” said Clara, turning her head to look behind and speak to him. “Nothing to worry about, Sky here has lost her parents and we’re going to help find them, aren’t we?”

Sky grabbed hold of her tightly, hiding out of Francis’ eye line, beginning to cry loudly.

“Hey, hey,” said Clara, turning back to Sky, “it’s OK, we’re going to look after you.” She rubbed Sky’s left shoulder.

Francis moved to stand next to her. “What are we going to do with her?” he whispered.

Clara stood up, holding out her right hand towards Sky who gripped on to it tightly. “Right now,” Clara said in a loud whisper, “we are going to help her find her parents.” She looked at him with raised eyebrows, willing him to play along, “because a big purple man has taken them away.”

Francis nodded back at her. “Oh,” he said quietly. Kodey began walking towards them.

“Sky,” she said, looking down slightly, “this is my friend Francis,” she pointed at him.

“Hello nipper,” he said with concern now, crouching down. Sky hid herself behind Clara’s legs, still holding her hand. Francis stood back up.

“Not very friendly, is she?” he said quietly to Clara, joking.

Clara hit him on the chest lightly. “Shut up, she’s five, she’s lost her parents in the universe’s biggest shopping centre on the busiest day of the year,” she whispered quietly, “we couldn’t leave her here in normal circumstances, let alone with what the hell is going on outside, OK?”

“OK, point taken,” nodded Francis after a slight pause.

“What are you two doing?” said Kodey, pacing over.

“We now appear to have gained a lost child,” said Francis to him, sideways.

Kodey immediately moved to look at Sky, a brief glimmer of hope passing across his face, then resigned as he realised he didn’t recognise her. He nodded silently to himself, running his left hand over his head, gazing up to the ceiling. “Don’t be so stupid, Kodey,” he muttered, leaning against the nearest white box.

Sky hid behind Clara’s legs, letting go of her right hand and reaching for her left.

“Sky,” said Clara, crouching down to look her. “This is my other friend Kodey,” she pointed.

Sky let out a small whimper, backing off into the shadows.

“It’s OK, Sky,” Clara reassured her, “I’m- we’re going to look after you.”

Sky nodded, tightening her grip on Clara’s left hand.

A very loud guttural groan echoed around the space, accompanied by a sound of shuffling footsteps on the rough concrete floor very close to them.

Kodey and Francis both immediately crouched down next to Clara. The three of them looked between each other, mouthing silent words. Clara picked up the shotgun with her right hand as quietly as possible, backing off from the noise, away from the direction they had just come from.


	37. Chapter 37 - Ashildr

“Shoot me then,” Ashildr said as she smiled at the screen. She freed her left hand out of the handcuffs and held it up dismissively. She was going to have to use this as her chance to escape.

“Don’t say another word,” Delta sneered to her left, going to pull her gun out of her belt and finding it gone.

“Looking for this?” said Ashildr held up the gun she’d stolen minutes earlier in her right hand. “Sorry, I think you’ll find this is mine now,” she reloaded the gun by pulling on the upper casing, watching Mike manhandle the camera unsteadily. She leaned forward standing up quickly, spinning around deftly.

Ashildr stood with the gun in her right hand, pointing it square between Delta’s eyes six feet away. Charlie had his gun a foot away from Ashildr’s head.

The two guards approached behind her, coming into her field of vision on the left. They both immediately trained their guns on her from the front. Charlie shot his gun once up to the ceiling, causing Mike to drop the camera in shock. It fell to the floor with a hollow clatter, turning itself off.

“I will shoot her,” threatened Ashildr, smirking, “I’ve got nothing to lose.”

Delta folded her arms and defiantly watched Ashildr edge closer to her with the gun.

“It appears we have underestimated you,” Charlie said as a small amount of dust floated gracefully down to the floor in front of his face.

Ashildr weighed up her options, eyes flicking between Delta, Charlie and the two guards. There was a large bank of screens directly behind Delta that was scrolling pages of data, it looked important. She considered where she could shoot Delta to make a point, debating between an arm and a leg.

“If she was going to shoot me she would have done it already,” smirked Delta, putting her hands on her hips.

Ashildr raised an eyebrow as she pointed the gun towards Delta’s left arm, immediately pulling the trigger. She deliberately aimed it through the tiny gap between her arm and her body, the bullet whooshed past, embedding itself with a loud thud into the metal base unit of the controls twenty feet away. She retrained the gun between Delta’s eyes instantly. The unit sparked with an orange yellow crackle a second after, causing all of the six screens to go immediately black.

Delta stood open mouthed, the colour drained from her face, not willing to move her arm to inspect it for damage.

Ashildr half smiled at her. “Try me, my aim is superb.”

Mike immediately rushed over to the terminal from her right hand side. “No!” he shouted angrily, running to stand just in front of the equipment. He balled his fists on his head and groaned loudly through gritted teeth, almost collapsing to the floor in frustration. Victor picked up the camera from the floor, walking to the large table just in the corner of Ashildr’s eye to her right, banging his hand on the table hard enough to make it shudder.

“Mike?” asked Charlie sternly.

Mike recovered himself and fished behind the terminal, crouching down and threading his hand into a small gap out of view. He eventually roughly pulled out a credit card sized black cartridge. He pushed his glasses up onto his nose, standing up to hold a series of gold wires, inspecting them closely with his eyes.

“Mike?” Charlie asked again, louder, moving to implant his gun back into Ashildr’s temple. “I hope for your sake,” he directed at her, “his next word is favourable.”

“I’m not scared of you,” Ashildr said, keeping her gun trained on Delta. “My reaction time is also superb, if you shoot me, I will react instantly. How much do you value her life?” Delta was desperately trying to not display her fear, but Ashildr could see her hands shaking slightly. Victor walked out of her view.

“It’s OK,” said Mike, exhaling to blow some ash off the cartridge, rubbing it with the corner of his sleeve. “It’s OK,” it’s undamaged...” he trailed off.

“And the data?” asked Delta, colour returned to her face.

“I won’t know until we get to another terminal,” he said, pacing quickly to the charred computer on the table. “The nearest one is in the south centre. We need to get there... now.” Mike picked up a backpack from the floor, putting various belongings into it, including the camera box, the cartridge and various papers strewn across the table.

Charlie sighed loudly.

Ashildr felt a heavy unexpected blow to the back of her neck, causing her to drop to the ground. She discharged the gun three times towards the ceiling in reaction, hearing one ricochet off a piece of metal with a loud ping. The fourth time she pulled the trigger the case was empty. A few stray pieces of rubble dropped down from the ceiling, followed by a soft small shower of dust.

“You,” said Charlie, pointing.

“Sir,” said the soft voice of the shorter guard.

“Shoot her,” Charlie sneered, “but don’t kill her.”

The shorter of the two guards immediately shot her three times in a line with pinpoint precision in her left lower leg with the machine gun. The bullets skittered off across the polished concrete floor. 

Ashildr shouted loudly and grimaced in pain, instinctively dropping the empty gun out of her right hand and putting both hands over the wound, the blood seeping out onto the black trousers and pooling on the floor beneath her. She bit onto the knuckle of her right hand to breathe through the pain. “Do you-“ she began loudly, “help me!”

“Delta, Mike and... you,” Charlie said sternly, pacing towards the table, indicating the taller guard, “we are leaving for the south centre in one minute, get your things. Victor, restrain her,” he pointed strongly towards Ashildr, “again. Secure the staff and then make your way to NR1 as per the original plan.” Charlie opened a large brown briefcase, unsnapping the gold clasps. “Take our visitor to the Volito, she is becoming a distraction from our main mission, put her inside with one of these,” he took out a large egg shaped rock and threw it quickly towards Victor, “we don’t need her.” 

Victor caught it safely in his left hand.

Ashildr could feel her body repairing itself, the pain had subsided and she could see the wounds had healed on her leg, revealing milky white skin. She reached down to the floor to cover her fingers in the pooled blood, rubbing it onto the skin, hoping she could disguise her motions as controlling the bleeding. There were three tiny entrance wounds and a larger exit hole on the other side of her trousers, she smeared as much red liquid as possible onto the skin.

“Can I have a bandage please? I’m bleeding out here!” Ashildr shouted loudly, straining her voice as much as possible.

“Shut up,” said the taller guard, moving around her.

Delta hurried to the table, walking straight into the shorter guard with a loud thump without thinking. She moved away and picked up a small black clutch bag, filling it with a few possessions. Mike put on the backpack and paced in bouncy steps to the vault door as Charlie closed the briefcase and joined him.

“Anyone? Is anyone listening? Help me!” Ashildr pleaded weakly, grabbing hold of her leg tightly.

Delta walked past Ashildr, stooping to hold Ashildr’s head up by her hair roughly, almost by enough force to lift her off the ground. “No so tough now, are you? I hope you enjoy your trip,” she sneered inches away from her face. Delta let her go ungracefully, reaching to pick up the empty gun and replace it into her belt, her heels clipping as she followed the others to the door. The taller guard turned the mechanism of the door, opening it widely.

“Contact me once you’re in position at NR1, I’m trusting you to not mess this up, we have to keep to schedule,” Charlie said before they left.

“What do you think I am?” Victor boomed in a reply, “amateur?” He moved the black rock between his hands.

“Good,” Charlie nodded as he disappeared.

The shorter guard moved to seal the vault door behind the exiting group.

“Can you help me?!” said Ashildr falsely, “you’ve shot me three times,” she strained towards her leg, writhing on the floor, “the least you can do is give me a bandage, come on!”

“Guard!” Victor shouted loudly.

“Yes sir,” the shorter guard replied.

“Give her something from your medical kit,” he boomed, picking up a large black holdall, throwing it roughly on the large table, “can’t have the little girl bleeding everywhere,” he laughed.

“Sir,” the guard marched quickly over, standing a few paces in front of Ashildr, fishing in one of the cargo pockets.

“Will you give me a bandage already? I’m dying here,” Ashildr groaned.

“When you are finished, put her back on the chair,” Victor shouted, “do it properly this time.”

“Sir,” the guard said efficiently, unwrapping a white bandage and throwing it in Ashildr’s direction. It landed on the floor softly in the remaining smear of blood.

“Nice to see you take hygiene seriously around here,” she said sarcastically, picking the soiled bandage up. “If I don’t die from being shot, I’m going to get infected aren’t I?” Ashildr aimed a hard glare up at the soldier, only able to see a pair of cold grey blue eyes looking back at her.

“Hurry up,” sneered the guard.

Ashildr tried to roll up the leg of her jeans, unable to get far enough, cursing Clara for her penchant for tight fitting clothing. She placed the fluffy pad around her leg, tying the rest of the bandage as tightly as possible. She reflected that the blood absorbed from the floor did add an authenticity to her injury that she hadn’t considered previously.

The guard hauled her roughly up putting hands under her armpits, Ashildr tried to make her left leg as unsupportive as possible as she balanced on her right.

“Thank you,” she said sarcastically as the guard pushed her back towards the chair roughly. He looked for the discarded handcuffs as Ashildr folded her arms defiantly. The guard patted down her left jacket pocket, finding the handcuffs and also the sunglasses.

“You have been very resourceful,” the guard sneered, putting his face an inch away from hers, “and I am confiscating these.” Ashildr had a strong feeling of déjà vu as the guard pulled away, reaffixing her wrists to the chair arm tightly with the cuffs.

“I’ll escape you know,” said Ashildr as the guard marched away thankfully not searching her other pockets, leaving her still with the phone and the TARDIS key.

“Stop talking,” the guard snapped back after a few paces, holding the machine gun towards her. The guard paused for a second and then continued towards Victor.

Ashildr narrowed her eyes at the guard’s back, watching as he put the sunglasses onto the large table. The portly guard on the upper levels ushered a handful of people down the stairs with a machine gun pointed at the last person’s back. They all held their hands up as they were marched away to the ground floor, to the other side of the large table, out of Ashildr’s view due to the scaffolding supports.

The two guards disappeared towards the group, leaving Victor alone to pace around the table. He placed the black stone into the end of the holdall. He collected the rest of the papers on the table top, throwing the holdall onto the floor, straightening his grey jumper underneath. Victor watched a few video screens, running his hand over his head as he stared upwards.

Ten minutes later the two guards reappeared. Ashildr couldn’t see any of the others, although she hadn’t heard any gunshots, she hoped desperately they hadn’t been killed.  
Ashildr glanced up at the screen with the figures on. It was 10.25am, the donations totalled 38% and the number of infected had risen to 386,640.


	38. Chapter 38 - Clara

Clara put her arm around Sky to her left, she was still whimpering loudly. Another loud, wet, guttural groan sounded from the direction Francis and Kodey had come from. She turned to face Sky, needing to make her quiet. Francis and Kodey had backed off a few more stooped paces.

“Sky,” Clara whispered, smiling weakly. “We are going to play a game.”

“A g-g-g-game?” Sky said, louder than Clara had expected.

“Yes, a very very fun game called ‘let’s avoid the big purple monster’,” she whispered, looking at the others quickly. “To play, we all need to stay very very quiet,” she put her left index finger on her lips. “Quiet as a mouse. Do you understand?”

Sky nodded, still crying, obviously scared.

“And you need to hold onto my hand and not let go, OK?” Clara added, proffering her left hand. Sky gripped it tightly again. “Good,” she smiled at her. She turned her head to look at Francis, trying to ask him silently with her eyes where they should be heading.

Francis pointed away from the wet growling noise with his right hand.

Clara nodded, pointing the gun away from her, getting Francis to move. The three of them crouched down to step quietly in an unmarked path between the various discarded bits of equipment.

Another gurgling groan sounded a way behind them, immediately followed by another very close on their left hand side, accompanied by a loud clatter.

Francis stopped still, holding Kodey back behind him. He turned around to look at Clara as if wanting her to make a decision. She directed them forward with the gun, acutely aware now of a fast set of footsteps approaching.

A large white object landed twenty metres in front of them, crashing to the ground, cracking into four pieces as it impacted. Sky screamed loudly, terrified.

“Shhh,” said Clara, tightening her grip on Sky’s hand, knowing this was the only reaction a five year old would make in this situation. She looked backwards, just about able to see a large purple tinted figure move behind a gap between two video screens. She indicated forwards with the gun, mouthing ‘go.’

Francis crept silently forward, standing up straighter as they entered a section of taller equipment, now one hundred metres away from the perimeter wall.

Kodey snagged the right shoulder of his ripped red jumper on a sharp piece of metal, noticing a second before dragging a precariously balanced heap of metal to the ground. He glanced back to Clara as he unhooked himself, pretending to wipe sweat away with the back of his hand, smiling weakly.

Clara raised her eyebrows urged him to carry on, she rested the shotgun on her right shoulder as she lead Sky in front of her. Sky was clearly confused and scared, but was still engaging in Clara’s game of staying quiet for the moment.

A loud clatter of objects being scattered on the floor coming close to their right made Clara jump an inch off the floor unexpectedly. Francis and Kodey were a few paces ahead, Clara ran to catch them up, almost dragging Sky along the floor as her tiny legs struggled to keep up. The lights above began flickering.

Several loud growls surrounded them from the rear, left and right. Francis and Kodey had both broken into a full on run now, pushing over pieces of equipment that were in their way in the pursuit of getting to wall, about fifty metres ahead. An object passed six feet above Clara’s head from her right, crashing down out of view.

Clara saw Francis and Kodey pulling away, she was being slowed down by Sky holding her back. Clara debated whether she could pick Sky up and run with her, deciding this was the sensible option. She quickly slung the shotgun over her shoulder, letting go of Sky’s hand for a second to grasp the fabric strap. Clara knelt down to the floor, put her arms under Sky’s and stood up, holding her against her chest, grateful she was fairly light. She was unable to run but could at least now make progress forward unimpeded. The main lights went off for a second, leaving the whole area in pitch black darkness.

She saw Francis trip over ahead of her when the lights came back on, falling face first into a discarded shelving unit. Kodey kept his balance, holding out a hand to heave Francis to his feet. He managed to recover himself as Clara came close. Another white box travelled quickly over their heads, smashing into the wall in front, shattering into a million pieces like a car windscreen and falling to the floor.

“There,” said Francis quietly, ducking, covering his head with his right arm, indicating over twenty fifty foot pieces of dusty grey metal leaning against the outer wall. There was a three foot wide triangle shaped area of shadows created by the positioning of the sheets which Francis dipped inside of to the right, back against the wall.

Kodey approached, pushing himself into the gap, shuffling inside facing the wall, his back scraping across the metal as he contorted his body.

Clara dropped Sky to the ground gently, pushing her forwards. Sky paused, unwilling to go into the dark, turning around to shake her head and hug Clara’s legs gently, sniffling back tears. A loud long wet growl floated into her right ear, she tried to ignore it as much as possible for Sky’s sake. She crouched down to be on the same level as her.

“Are you afraid of the dark?” Clara whispered quietly. A gurgling shout twelve feet behind her made her jump, grabbing hold of Sky’s shoulders instinctively.

Sky nodded quietly. Clara couldn’t help but feel achingly sorry for her, wondering how best to get a terrified five year old to go in somewhere pitch black. The main lights flickered ominously several times.

“You know I used to be afraid of the dark,” Clara smiled as confidently as she could manage. She couldn’t deny she was also scared, now she no longer had the Doctor to rely on. Having an idea, she quickly unzipped her right pocket, pulling out her phone, expertly turning on the torch, shining it towards Kodey and Francis six feet away from them, “and then I got this.”

Sky looked up at her curiously, innocently marvelling at the bright white light. They both encouraged her towards them.

“See, nothing to be afraid of, just us,” smiled Clara, looking into Sky’s eyes.

Sky nodded, covering her eyes as the light shone out. Her face was bright red with tears.

Clara put her phone in the chest pocket of Sky’s pink dungarees so it shone out in front of her. She turned Sky around to face the others, pushing her inside. Kodey reached out his left hand for her, guiding her towards him. She waved them to go.

Clara sighed to herself in relief and then stood up. She took the shotgun off her shoulder, holding it in her right hand near the trigger, preparing to slide along the wall when the main lights cut out for a second. Clara froze in the darkness, the only illumination disappearing further away to her left with Sky. The group were twenty feet further down now, uplit by the harsh white light coming from her phone.

The lights flickered back on for a moment and Clara saw a bright purple face a foot in front of her face, pressing against the shotgun in her hand. She gasped loudly in shock as the lights turned off, closing her eyes tightly in an instinctive reaction, recoiling against the wall but unable to channel any energy to her body to move away, aware of the pressure against the barrel of the shotgun. The figure gargled loudly as if using mouthwash, soon accompanied by another angry moan to her right. She held her breath to keep quiet.

Clara, recovered from her initial shock, opened her right eye just as the overhead lights flickered above once more. The figure in front was a man with bright red hair, the irises of the eyes white, black pupils wide, mouth hanging limply down. A second monster had appeared to her right, long black hair flowing down onto a dirty, ripped white dress. The lights flickered once more and Clara could see another handful of purple coloured people approaching quickly in all directions. She opened her eyes widely through fear, mentally calculating how many creatures there were around her, losing count at twenty.

In the pitch black she could feel breath coming in close on her right ear, a wet sucking inhaling noise reverberating surrounding her. Clara half hoped the lights would stay off, now unable to see the light from her phone torch, presumably either blocked by a monster or too far away. She pushed herself backwards into the wall, not moving the gun, swallowing heavily, still in the pitch black, holding up her chin, paralysed with fear as the gurgling noise drew closer, now millimetres from her left ear.


	39. Chapter 39 - Ashildr

Ashildr watched as the two guards approached Victor, the shorter guard still had his machine gun trained on her. The other guard was as wide as he was tall, easily four times the size of his shorter guard. Victor picked up the black holdall and slung it over his shoulder, smoothing down his grey jumper afterwards.

“You,” Victor boomed, pointing at the larger guard, “what’s your code?”

“Sierra Five, sir,” the guard answered pointedly.

“And you?” Victor snapped at the shorter guard.

“Alpha Two, sir,” he replied in the familiar soft voice.

Victor made his way over to Ashildr, smiling at her. “Well, little girl,” he said as he approached, “are you ready for a little trip?” he laughed heartily, crossing his arms over his muscled chest. “Two, uncuff the prisoner and bring her out to the pod. Five, come with me,” Victor disappeared through the vault door with Sierra Five.

Alpha Two marched towards her, gun still trained between her eyes. He retrieved a small key from a zip up pocket in the left sleeve and moved to undo the handcuffs, dropping the gun to hang on the strap.

Ashildr noticed the sunglasses still lying on the table where Alpha Two had left them. She knew they could come in useful, so she decided to jog the guard’s memory, thinking that maybe she could pickpocket them back later.

“Haven’t you forgotten something?” Ashildr said, lilting her head towards the table.

Alpha Two’s cold grey eyes drew level with hers as he stopped what he was doing. She felt oddly disconcerted, taken aback by the how strong and immediate the sense was. “You will be quiet,” he said in the achingly familiar soft voice, “if you wish to take another breath.” Alpha Two turned around to look at the table, nodded and then returned his gaze to her. He went to unlock the left handcuff.

“Those sunglasses are really useful,” Ashildr mused, “I haven’t quite figured out how they work yet,” she said as an aside, “but when I do, which I will, because, well, I am superb, I’ll be able to do anything.”

“Except modesty,” Alpha Two replied curtly, whilst looking at her wrists.

“Touché,” said Ashildr, a little impressed, raising an eyebrow. “It is something I’ve always struggled with.”

Alpha Two pulled her up to her to her feet roughly, standing shorter to her due to the raised platform of the chair. He handcuffed Ashildr’s left hand to her right behind her back. 

“I have to say,” Ashildr thought out loud as she stepped off the platform, “you’re hardly intimidating as a guard, I could easily overpower you-”

“And you are surprisingly well for someone who has been shot three times in the leg,” he retorted quickly. “Move,” he said, indicating the direction towards the vault door with the machine gun, now holding it between the shoulder blades.

“If you get the sunglasses,” Ashildr tried to protest, “I’ll tell you how to work them, you can have any money you want, my friend got millions of credits from one of those machines with them.”

“I’m not here for the money,” said Alpha Two.

“What? Are they not paying you then?” asked Ashildr. “Being part of an alliance taking over a shopping centre, demanding money off innocents and potentially being an accessory to eight hundred million people’s murders doesn’t seem like something I would do for free,” Ashildr creased her eyebrows, “and I have done some very dubious things… so what are you getting out of it?”

“Be quiet, keep moving,” Alpha Two snapped back, prodding Ashildr in the lower back, “move!”

“You are making a very big mistake not bringing the sunglasses with you, I mean, why would you leave them here?” said Ashildr, stepping forward, remembering what the guard had said and began twisting her face into a grimace.

“I was waiting to have you restrained, so you couldn’t pickpocket them from me,” Alpha Two said blankly as he walked back to the table, picking up the sunglasses, folding them up and putting them in the collar of his black jacket. Ashildr still couldn’t place the voice and it was beginning to aggravate her.

“I can’t guarantee I still won’t, I am an excellent pickpocket,” Ashildr smirked before asking, “have we met before? Your eyes and your voice seem awfully-”

“We have never met before,” the man replied. “Be quiet and keep moving,” he said as he stood behind Ashildr, stooping to pick something up.

Ashildr was pushed painfully back out to the black corridor, through the open vault door, ascending steadily to the platform where they arrived in the pod a few hours earlier. Alpha Two closed the vault door behind him, restraining her wrists. He spun the mechanism to close it, leaving the wheel rolling freely until it stopped still. She was then directed to a black sliding door on the right which she had not noticed earlier.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked, pretending to limp.

“Group Transmission,” Alpha Two said, as they caught up to Victor and Sierra Five.

“What took you so long?” Victor boomed, holding a gas mask in his left hand, passing another to Sierra Five from what appeared to be a storage cupboard.

“She was talking, sir,” Alpha Two replied.

“Women,” Victor nodded, pacified by Alpha Two’s answer, “my wife-”

“Excuse me?!” Ashildr reacted. 

“- she will not shut up,” he said talking over her making a hand signal that reminded Ashildr of a bird beak, “chat chat chat, shoes, shopping, the kids. Don’t give them chance to talk, Two, that’s the key. Or give them some money to go away.” Victor laughed loudly.

“You would have loved Barry,” said Ashildr under her breath. “Good job you got me and not her. If I have to sit through her talking about clothes or watches or pub quizzes-” Ashildr felt the gun shoved between her shoulders hard.

“Or don’t have one,” Sierra Five said whilst watching Ashildr with baby blue eyes, before adding, “sir.”

“- one more time.” Ashildr smirked.

“That is also option,” Victor agreed. “Or kill them.”

“I’m sure that Barry and I would have some very interesting views on that,” mused Ashildr.

Victor held out a gas mask to Alpha Two, still stood behind her. “See what you have done Two? Now she thinks she can get involved in the conversation. Women.” He sighed, holding out another gas mask to Sierra Five. “Here, use this. If we can’t shut her up, the least we can do is muffle the chatter.”

“Sir,” said Sierra Five, perching his mask on his forehead before taking the second one.

“Wait, why would I need-“ Ashildr started as Sierra Five roughly wrestled the gas mask over her head, “-gas mask?” Her voice was distorted, hot breath fogging up the insides. It smelt musky and sweaty, making her feel immediately queasy. He tightened the straps way past the point of them being painful, ripping out several strands of hair.

“That’s better,” laughed Victor, turning to face her, “now she can talk and we do not have to listen.” He offered a mask to Alpha Two.

“Thank you,” said Ashildr sarcastically, as loud as she was able to, “you misogynist b-”

“Shut up,” said Alpha Two behind her, clearing his throat, hitting her with the gun.

“Ready?” said Victor, putting the gas mask on to his forehead, he typed a code into a previously hidden panel next to the black sliding door. A small green light lit up above the keypad and the door slid open to the left. He lowered the mask to sit properly, flush against his face.

“Sir,” said Sierra Five, affixing his own mask on both sides, facing away from her as he walked through the portal first.

“Sir,” said Alpha Two, dropping the gun on its strap for a moment to pull the mask quickly over his balaclava.

Victor went into the transmission area, as Ashildr was shoved in after, only able to just stay on her feet. The door sealed once Alpha Two had entered.

‘Please scan your tags individually,’ the familiar mechanical voice boomed out.

Sierra Five retrieved a small piece of fabric from a zip up pocket on his right forearm and held it into the scanner hole, removing it and returning it back to its home. Victor scanned his tattooed right hand.

“I guess that means you’ll have to release me then,” sighed Ashildr, smirking, knowing it couldn’t be seen. “Can’t scan my hand from behind my back, can I?”

Alpha Two emerged behind her on the right, holding two pieces of fabric. He scanned both in turn, replacing them into the left arm pocket.  
‘Please state your destination,’ said the voice above.

Victor lifted his mask off his face by an inch. “Volito service area,” he put it back and tightened the straps on either side, shifting the black holdall on his shoulder and smoothing down his grey shirt.

‘Please enter group transmission area in order,’ the voice towered over them loudly.

Sierra Five entered the black corridor, managing to heave himself into the lightest of jogs. He dissipated before Ashildr’s eyes, followed swiftly by Victor.

Ashildr began hobbling towards the transmission area when Alpha Two put his hand on her left shoulder. He moved to stand in front of her, lifting off the gas mask off his face to his forehead, dropping the gun on its strap.

“We only have a few seconds,” he said, “and I need you to listen, so please none of the usual backchat.”

Ashildr creased her eyebrows, confused. “Listen? Listen to what?” Her voice was muffled by the mask.

“You need to let whatever is going to happen, happen,” he said quietly, “this is the only way we are going to save anybody in here, Ashildr, do you understand?”

‘Please enter transmission area now,’ the automated voice reminded them. Alpha Two looked up to the ceiling.

“Who are you?” asked Ashildr, “and how do you know my real name?”

“Not important,” Alpha Two snapped quickly, “do you understand?”

“I suppose,” nodded Ashildr, still confused, fogging up the mask as she spoke.

‘Please enter transmission area now,’ the mechanical voice sounded.

“I suppose? For god’s sake, come on Ashildr! Do you understand?” Alpha Two said.

“Yes,” Ashildr said. “Who are you?” she demanded.

“Right now you can call me your best friend,” Alpha Two said. He pushed her towards the transmission area, “run!” he said, pulling down his gas mask.

Ashildr did as she was told, looking back towards Alpha Two as she stumbled on her feet, wondering who he was, the voice and choice of words unsettling familiar. She felt her insides being pulled out through her belly button and then emerged into a small black single file passageway on the other side. Ashildr kept running until she hit something solid that winded her as she crashed into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clara in the middle of a zombie attack, surrounded by a hundred infected with no way out,  
> Ashildr about to be cast out of the Volito by gun toting guards.  
> And who is the mysterious guard, Alpha Two?
> 
> I love reading everyone's theories and comments on this (both here and on FF) - so does anyone got any clue what's going on? I really wish I could give you all some preview information, but I don't want to accidentally slip up and give you any spoilers.
> 
> Keep reading everyone :-)


	40. Chapter 40 - Ashildr

Sierra Five caught Ashildr in both of his arms roughly, stopping her progress. She immediately felt a large wave of nausea come up from her stomach, not wanting to be sick inside the mask, she tried to get the guard’s attention.

“I think I’m going to be sick!” Ashildr shouted loudly. He didn’t register her. She tried to heave the mask off her face by pushing the filter canister against Sierra Five’s arm, to no avail as the mask was on so tightly.

Alpha Two came running through the walkway, dropping to his knees before reaching the end.

“Stop crawling around on the floor Alpha Two,” Sierra Five said whilst laughing, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Alpha Two promptly stood up and marched over to Ashildr. She had her head slung down, trying to fight being sick into the mask, tasting an acidic tone in her mouth.

“Let me take her,” Alpha Two shouted, “looks like we are about to have an ejection.”

Sierra Five threw her roughly in Alpha Two’s direction. “Your problem.”

Alpha Two removed Ashildr’s mask. She immediately vomited loudly on the floor, covering the entire of Sierra Five’s left boot in sick. He looked down and grimaced, trying to shake off some of the liquid before leaving it and moving away.

“Five, lead the way,” Victor boomed from the other side of the area. “Two, bring her.”

“Sir!” both the guards said in unison.

Alpha Two hung back, producing a very small tablet of water and offered it to Ashildr, putting a hand up to his lips. She nodded as he placed it carefully in her mouth, before lowering the gas mask back onto her face. Alpha Two maintained eye contact with Ashildr for a few seconds and then pushed her forward to follow Victor up four flights of metal stairs. The fluids immediately made her feel better.

They emerged into a boxy dimly lit empty area full of controls to the right, flashing lights of every colour. There was a long curved screen showing a large horseshoe shape on the left hand side, a door directly in front at the end.

Victor moved over to a keyboard, typed in a few letters and then a image of a door appeared in front of him. He slowly rotated a joystick around to look around the area.

“Take her outside,” Victor said, not looking over. He opened a zip on the end of his holdall and retrieved the large black egg device Charlie had given him earlier. He twisted it in his hands and it made a soft clicking noise, glowing bright red the further he clicked it. It had the number ‘25’ on the surface. He pulled off a small section at the top and threw it to the ground with a glass like rattle. He handed the device to Sierra Five. “Take her to entrance, I’ll open it here, put her inside with that and come back.” Sierra Five put the charge in his left outer vest pocket.

“Sir,” said Alpha Two, prodding his machine gun into Ashildr’s back.

“No!” said Ashildr loudly, “you can’t do this! You can’t throw me out into space.”

“Shut up,” said Alpha Two.

“Is someone talking?” Victor looked around playfully, laughing heartily. “Bye bye, little woman,” he aimed a half wave at her through the visor, “enjoy your trip.”

The door at the end opened and Sierra Five picked up his gun, peering out of each side of the doorframe, he nodded and beckoned Alpha Two forward.

Ashildr was shoved towards the door, following Sierra Five out into a brightly lit area which hurt her eyes initially. It appeared to be a large gift shop, full of souvenirs emblazoned with the word ‘VOLITO’. They turned right to follow the wall’s edge. She contemplated whether it was feasible to run away, catching sight of a closed door on her left that she could see lead out to the boulevard areas through the clear glass windows. She turned her head to look.

Alpha Two grabbed hold of her handcuffs behind her a second after as if reading her thoughts. “You are not running off, don’t even think about it,” he said loudly towards her ear, dropping the machine gun to roughly link his arm inside hers.

Sierra Five edged around to the right of the wall, nodding. The shop extended a hundred metres in front of them, completely empty of people, no glass to see past the perimeter walls. They continued along the length, sticking to the wall.

Ashildr heard laughter coming in front as they approached the end. Sierra Five ducked to his left, picking up a yellow t-shirt on a hanger. He held it to face Alpha Two. It said ‘I WENT THROUGH THE VOLITO AND I SURVIVED’ in large red letters.

“What do you think, Alpha Two? Think this will suit her?” he laughed loudly.

“Bring it,” Alpha Two replied loudly, laughing.

Sierra Five threw the hanger away and slung the shirt over his right shoulder. They turned right to see a rounded square hatch, thirty feet wide. A red sign above said ‘EXIT’ in large red translucent letters.

The hatch lowered slowly after a few seconds, taking a while to fully disappear into the floor.

“In,” barked Sierra Five through the mask. Alpha Two dragged her past the threshold and portal began to lift up, sealing with a soft whoosh.

They were now in a large tube that had a white glass floor, the sides and the ceiling were clear, showing the black sky and stars around. Ashildr could see rows of similar tubes to her left which all fed into a gigantic circular tube in the distance. It was all completely deserted. Ashildr decided it would have been very impressive were it not for the fact she was about to be cast out into outer space.

A large reinforced airlock in front of them displayed large red translucent strange characters in the middle. Ashildr stared at them for a moment trying to decipher anything before realising she was reading a slow countdown from ‘100’ reflected backwards. After a minute it reached zero and the airlock swung open heavily towards them, showing a door that was over three foot thick.

Alpha Two pushed her inside to a fifty metre clear rounded square tube, the white glass having disappeared. She peered down at her feet, floating on the stars.

“Impressive,” said Ashildr to herself, before shouting loudly, “you can’t do this!”

Sierra Five moved inside and the hatch closed behind him with a loud sucking noise. Ashildr was manhandled forward by both of the guards to the end until another airlock stopped their progress. The backwards countdown reached zero and it opened towards them in a similar fashion. She struggled against their grip.

Sierra Five retrieved the glowing red egg device from his left pocket. It now said ‘17’. He handed it to Alpha Two, along with the t-shirt and nodded at him.

“You will come with me,” Alpha Two shouted loudly, slinging the t-shirt over his left shoulder, walking forwards. The airlock began to shut leaving Sierra Five on the other side, it stopped a foot from closing, leaving enough room for someone to squeeze out. Ashildr could see Sierra Five inspecting his machine gun clearly through the glass.

Alpha Two walked forward twenty metres and removed Ashildr’s gas mask completely, hooking it around his arm. Ashildr drank in the cleaner air, grateful to be out of the stale, sweaty, steamed up mask.

“Thank you,” she conceded before blurting out, “what is going on? Who are you?”

Alpha Two looked at her. “Can you hear me with this on?”

“Just about,” said Ashildr, nodded. “Can you let me out of these handcuffs?” she mirrored his tone.

“No, he can see us, remember,” Alpha Two said. He took the red charge in his right hand and threw it forward as hard as possible. It bounced with a hollow clipping noise, landing thirty metres along the tube.

“Tell me who you are,” Ashildr demanded.

“There is no time,” said Alpha Two. “You need to stay in here, trust me, you’ll be fine.” He swiftly unzipped the pocket on his left forearm and pulled out a vial of yellow liquid wrapped in a piece of fabric. “You’ll need these,” he said, shielding his actions, putting it into an inner zip up pocket of Ashildr’s jacket that she hadn’t been aware was there. He fished into Ashildr front right pocket, taking out the small silver key and putting that in the same pocket, zipping it up.

“How did you know that was there?” Ashildr demanded.

“Call your travelling companion,” said Alpha Two, pointing to her left trouser pocket. He turned her around and pushed her forward. “And do your coat up.”

“Who are you?” said Ashildr again.

“Alpha Two,” he replied. “But that is not the question.”

“Ok... so what is the question?” Ashildr asked confused, raising an eyebrow.

“Who is Alpha One?” he said, walking back to the airlock, away from her.

“What?” said Ashildr louder, spinning around. “I haven’t got time for cryptic messages!”

Sierra Five pointed at the t-shirt, still slung on Alpha Two’s shoulder.

“I don’t understand,” said Ashildr as Alpha Two marched back over. He retrieved a small key and undid her left handcuff, handing her the t-shirt.

“Put this on,” he demanded, pointing his gun at her.

“Tell me who you are,” Ashildr said, pulling the very large yellow t-shirt over her head on top of her coat.

“You know who I am,” said Alpha Two, nodding approvingly. He affixed Ashildr’s left hand again, but there was easily enough room to slip her hand out.

“I really don’t,” she aimed at Alpha Two’s back.

“I’m... oh, never mind, you will realise soon enough,” he said, before heading to the airlock.

“I still don’t understand,” Ashildr called loudly after him, trying to run to catch up. Alpha Two ducked out of the airlock as it closed shut with a loud hiss, leaving Ashildr watching them from the other side, banging her head on the glass.

Alpha Two and Sierra Five walked away from the airlock, back towards the gift shop. The next airlock had the red numbers counting down, now the correct way around. She could just about see them reach it, the countdown reached zero and it opened. They disappeared from view, obscured by the layers of glass.

Ashildr hooked her left hand out of the cuffs. “So not my colour,” she said to herself as she pulled off the yellow t-shirt and discarded it on the floor. She contorted her hand out of the right cuff, breaking her wrist again, dropping the restraints on the glass with a resounding clunk.

She tried to rack her brains for who Alpha Two was. She recognised the eyes and some of the words, but couldn’t make the connection to a person.

Ashildr walked down the tube, resigned to the fact she was trapped, in search of the red charge. She found it on the ground after thirty seconds of walking, picking it up and holding it in her hands. It now said ‘12’ in red numbers, changing to ‘11’ before her eyes. It felt smooth to the touch, slightly warm and emitted a soft ticking noise. She looked around for a way to turn it off, finding it impossible to disable.

“Great,” she sighed to herself, putting the device on the floor. She kicked it forward in frustration and it skittered across the glass towards another airlock at the end.

Ashildr removed her phone from her front left pocket, pressing the big round button at the bottom. It displayed a message saying ‘swipe to unlock’, which she did and the screen blinked to life. Ashildr surveyed the available icons, trying to find a way to call Clara. There was a small green phone symbol in the bottom left, she pressed it, seeing the word ‘Clara’ displayed in the previous calls. She touched her name, and the screen indicated the phone was calling her.

Ashildr’s feet tapped softly on the glass tube as she paced towards the airlock waiting for Clara to answer, her trainers making a hollow sound as she watched the outer airlock percentage climb up to 100%. She twisted her foot and heard a high pitched squeaking noise from the soles of her shoes, repeating the motion to get the same sound, smiling to herself. The phone rang for a minute and then it answered.

“Hi,” Clara said quietly, the picture not appearing on the screen. Ashildr held the handset closer to her ear.

“Clara!” said Ashildr relieved. “Thank god! You’re still alive!”


	41. Chapter 41 - Ashildr/Clara

Clara heard a loud shuffling noise, as if many heavy objects were being dragged across the rough concrete floor. The shotgun fell limp in her hand, the pressure at the front removed. The lights flickered once and then came back on completely. Over one hundred figures were walking away from her, scraping their feet.

Clara unconsciously exhaled heavily, still scared, glad they were moving away, hoping this was an opportunity to escape. She was preparing to silently slide left along the wall to join the others when she heard a rhythmic bleeping noise, instantly recognising it as the ringtone on her phone.

All of the dispersing people stopped still as the noise continued.

Clara had assumed Francis and the others were quite a distance away from her, but judging by the volume of the chiming they were closer than she had first thought. She cautiously stole a glance left, able to pick out a faint light twenty metres further down. She saw Kodey inspecting the handset, the light was flashing around, illuminating the group intermittently.

The phone continued ringing, getting progressively louder, not through its volume but due to the awareness of the noise. She desperately hoped the answerphone would kick in and stop the tone, judging it would be soon, regretting not choosing a shorter cut out time.

Five of the figures nearest to her turned around to face the direction of the noise. Clara stayed still against the wall, unwilling and unable to move for fear of distracting them towards her. She swallowed heavily.

The beeping stopped, leaving a large silence hanging in the air. Several of the others had turned around to investigate, but faced with nothing they paused. Clara watched as they surveyed the area, tilting their heads, all of them deep, dark mottled purple.

Clara stayed still, not moving an inch, waiting for them to lose interest and return to walking in the opposite direction. A loud gargling shout in the distance caught the pack’s attention, the few creatures that had turned around faced away, and they all began shuffling away slowly through the dumped equipment.

She waited until the crowd had dispersed and were at least twenty metres away before sliding herself silently left along the wall, underneath the large metal sheets, towards Francis, Kodey and Sky.

.............

“This is Clara Oswald. I'm probably on the Tube or in outer space. Leave a message!” Clara said brightly as a loud beep came from the speaker.

Ashildr creased her eyebrows, confused. “Clara, we both know you are in outer space, why would I need to leave you a message? I’m in a tube right now, what are you talking about? Where are you?” Ashildr looked down at the phone, not seeing her face or getting other any other noise from it. “Clara, are you there? I’m kind of in quite a... difficult situation here.” There was still no answer.

Ashildr picked up the handset, wondering if she had done something wrong. She pressed the red button on the screen to stop the call.  
She had caught up with the timer, looking down to see it saying ‘9’. Ashildr kicked it forward lightly as she rang Clara again. The phone answered within two rings this time.

“Hi,” said Clara, again only through the speakers.

“Clara! Clara!” said Ashildr, “are you there?”

..........

Clara had almost caught up with the others when she heard the phone chime once, indicating she had a voicemail. She quickened her pace to reach the group, smiling weakly at Kodey, still holding her phone, shining the light out.

“What’s going on?” whispered Francis.

“Shh!” Clara said as quietly as she could, putting her right index finger to her lips. Her phone began ringing again, loudly. Kodey held it towards her, she took it off him and immediately pressed the reject button, muting the noise. She looked down at the screen, it was Ashildr calling her. She flipped the mute button on the side of the handset and nodded. She turned off the torch to find a loud sniffling coming from beneath her.

“OK, OK,” she breathed, turning the light back on, directing the light down at Sky. She grabbed hold of Clara’s left leg. Clara gently rested the stock of the shotgun on the floor, moving it to her left hand so she could send a message on her phone with her right to Ashildr.

: Can’t talk, in the middle of a zombie attack. Call you when I’m done.

Clara sent the message and then focussed on the task at hand. She turned to Francis, indicating that he should carry on down the wall. He nodded back at her. She held the phone back out to Kodey, realising the only way she could get Sky to let go of her leg and to move was to hold her hand.

.............

“This is Clara Oswald. I'm probably on the Tube or in outer space. Leave a message!” Clara’s voice spoke out of the phone again. There was another loud beep. Ashildr realised this was the exact same wording as the previous time, as if it had been pre-recorded. 

“Clara, it’s Me, I’m in a tube... in outer space, with a charge that’s about to go off in eight minutes. Please call me back if it’s not too much of an inconvenience to you,” she said, annoyed. She took the phone away from her mouth and disconnected the call.

Ashildr was completely sealed off, no way to escape. She ventured past the charge again, now more than halfway to the next airlock, holding the phone in her hands, waiting for a reply. Her footsteps reverberated all around, heavy and hollow on the glass floor. Ashildr could see space all around her, as if she was walking through an invisible platform. It was undeniably beautiful, even given the circumstances. She reached out her left hand to the side, just able to touch the surface due to the angle she was standing at. The cool glass was almost completely invisible to the naked eye, she sighed and resigned herself to her fate.

The phone bleeped once in her right hand. She looked at it, seeing a message on the screen.

: Can’t talk, in the middle of a zombie attack. Call you when I’m done.

“How melodramatic,” Ashildr said to herself, smiling.

She examined the phone for a way to reply, finding an option after pressing an icon that said ‘Messages’. Ashildr typed a short reply.

: please do trapped in a tube about to be cast off into space in eight minutes thanks

Ashildr sat down next to the red charge, placing the phone handset on the ground, watching as the number ‘8’ emblazoned in the surface changed to ‘7’. She put her head in her hands, and sighed loudly.

............

Clara shuffled along the wall, shotgun in her left hand, dragging Sky quickly along behind her. The light illuminated the way in front, subduing Sky’s sniffles.

Kodey stopped in front of her, he was facing the wall, holding the phone light in his left hand down towards the ground. Clara peered around to find the reason why they had stopped.

“Why have we stopped?” she mouthed quietly to Kodey. He held out his hands, confused.

Clara noticed a dim light coming near her feet as she surveyed the area, illuminating Sky below her knees. It was coming from a small grill. She squeezed Sky’s hand reassuringly, looking down at her.

“Why have we stopped?” Kodey whispered to Francis, shining the torch at him.

“Door,” Francis mouthed silently, pointing up in front. 

Clara noticed the screen on her phone glowing blue as Kodey pointed it towards Francis. She craned her neck to read the reply, hoping he would keep the handset still.

: please do trapped in a tube about to be cast off into space

Kodey’s hand obscured the rest of the message. Clara exhaled to herself quietly. Francis held up a finger to his lips, preparing to peer around the edge of the last panel of metal.

A loud clatter to Clara’s right shook her concentration. Kodey instinctively shone the torch in her direction. Clara saw light where there had previously been only darkness further down from where they had just come from.

“Door,” Clara breathed, pointing towards Francis. Kodey aimed the torch back in the opposite direction to see Francis and then yelped.

A large purple skinned man was six feet away from Francis, gargling heavily. Francis recoiled into the darkness.

Clara was unsure what to do, looking down towards Sky, frozen still. She saw her face illuminated by the grill and had an idea.

“Kodey,” she said very quietly as he aimed the torch at her, “crowbar,” she pointed down, shuffling back along the wall. He nodded carefully unhooking the crowbar from his belt loop, handing the light to Francis. He put the flat edge of the crowbar between the grill and the wall and heaved his weight against it. It didn’t move. Clara wished she had the sonic sunglasses, knowing she could have done this job instantly.

He tried again, closer to the top right edge. After a few goes the right top side popped off the wall with a small clang. He moved to the left side, closer to Clara, hauling power behind it until it flapped down onto his knees. He shuffled back towards Francis, carefully dropping the cover to the floor with as little noise as possible. A loud crash sounded close on Clara’s right hand side.

Clara crouched down to inspect the new gap, seeing a similar grill three foot inside, with two small levers that looked like it would cause the grill to open outwards. She handed Kodey the shotgun, letting go of Sky’s hand for a moment. She crawled inside, reaching for the small grey handles. She rotated the first one carefully, the second took a few goes to loosen, but the grill crashed heavily, loudly onto the floor on the other side. She became aware of some gargling noises in the background, accompanied by more thuds and the sound of metal denting.

Clara retreated, pointing Sky in the direction of the grill, indicating for her to go through. 

Kodey handed her the shotgun back as he followed through next. 

Francis shuffled towards her, just as the large piece of metal he was standing under was ripped away from the wall by two purple creatures. He quickly jumped through the grill hole, his feet kicking for traction as two pairs of infected purple hands reached for him.

Clara ducked down to get inside the duct, pulling the shotgun alongside, her shoulders level with the other room when she felt herself being pulled back roughly. She kicked back her legs trying to shake off the pressure, freeing her right leg. Kodey and Francis took a shoulder each, trying to pull her inside. Clara pushed out the heel of her left foot, and then swiftly found herself pulled through and on the floor of the next room.

The purple creatures were peering through the gap, gurgling loudly. Clara turned around and grabbed the shotgun, shoving the stock towards the sets of hands now grasping the air in front of them. She flipped the grill back upright and sat with her back against it.

“We need something heavy,” Clara said, breathing heavily, grateful to be out of the clutches of the zombies. She looked around the black corridor. “Where are we?” the grill rattled behind her. Sky sat on the floor a few feet away, watching her.

“This looks like it leads to pods,” said Francis, standing up, wandering down the corridor. Kodey got to his feet and went to inspect an area out of Clara’s eye line for something to prop the grill up with. He disappeared behind a corner and then immediately returned.

“Francis,” Kodey called out, “give me a hand!”

“Sure mate, one second,” he strolled back. “There’s a docking station up there, we could use that to get to the operations centre?”

“That is good news,” smiled Clara. 

Francis disappeared to join Kodey. 

Clara smiled at Sky as the grill behind her fought against her bodyweight. “Are you OK?” she asked.

Sky nodded, still sniffling.

“It’s OK, don’t worry, everything is going to be OK,” she said, unsure if she was lying. She had seen the Doctor do this many times before. She reassuringly squeezed Sky’s left shoulder with her right hand.

Francis and Kodey emerged around a blind corner carrying a large white medical box between them.

“Yes!” said Clara. “That is perfect.” She shuffled up and moved away from the grill as they edged it into position. They dropped it on the floor with a dull thud.

Clara sat on top of the unit, the height of a half size fridge, and laughed to herself. “Wow, OK, so we’ve managed to escape, well done everyone. High fives all around!”

Francis gave Clara back her phone, still shining brightly.

“Thank you,” she nodded, going to turn off the torch when she saw the end of the message from Me sent four minutes previously.

: please do trapped in a tube about to be cast off into space in eight minutes thanks

“Oh no, no, no, no,” said Clara as the colour drained from her face, immediately calling her number, tapping her fingernails on the surface of the box as she waited for Ashildr to pick up.


	42. Chapter 42 - Ashildr

Ashildr was beginning to lose hope when the phone bleeped. She pressed the green button, hearing Clara’s voice through a small hole at the top. The red charge had ‘4’ on it.

“Me!” said Clara through the speaker, “thank god you’re still there.”

“I can’t see you, am I doing something wrong?” asked Ashildr, staring at the screen, she stood up and began pacing around.

“No, you’re not, I didn’t have time to do a video call, hold it up to your ear,” said Clara. “Hang on, I’m going to put you on loudspeaker.”

“Take your time why don’t you?” Ashildr said impatiently, putting the handset up to her face, able to hear more clearly now.

“Where are you? What is happening?” asked Clara.

“I’m in something called the Volito, large big glass tube, I’m about three airlocks in from the exit,” Ashildr looked around her. “They’ve put me inside with a small black thing with red numbers-“

“What does it look like?” said a man’s voice.

“Who is that?” said Ashildr, confused, “are you there with someone else?”

“That’s Kodey,” Clara stated, “I met him in the shopping centre.”

“Glad you’ve had time to socialise,” Ashildr trailed off.

“Seriously? Is that what you think I’ve been-” Clara started.

“What does it look like?” the man’s voice asked again, talking over Clara.

“It’s like a large egg or a pebble, it was black originally, the man twisted it, it turned red and it has red numbers on it,” Ashildr described whilst inspecting it in her hands.

“Is it ticking?” Kodey asked.

“Yes!” said Ashildr, grateful somebody was being useful. “What is it?”

“That’s a pulsade,” he said. “Do you have the end cap?”

“No,” Ashildr said, “I can’t get to it. Is there any way to turn it off?”

“Without the cap, no,” Kodey said resigned. “If you had the cap you just put it back in and it turns it off. I’m sorry. What does it say on it?”

“Three,” said Ashildr, “I presume that’s minutes?”

“Yeah,” Kodey replied.

“Right,” said Clara, “be quick Me, tell me what you know.”

Ashildr took a deep breath. “They took me to the west operations centre, handcuffed me to a chair and interrogated me about you, I broke out of the handcuffs, stole the sunglasses and stopped those black dots attacking you-“

“That was you?” said Clara, incredulous.

“Yes, I blew and up and set fire to their controls, you’re welcome by the way. Then I shot the main computer they were trying to hack into, they shot me in the leg and then... they brought me here. I think that’s everything.”

“OK,” said Clara, pausing. “How many of them are there?”

“Four – grey haired man, Charlie, the woman is called Delta, the boy is Mike and our Russian friend is called Victor... and I saw three different guards,” Ashildr said, “one of the guards was trying to help me. Very strange.”

“What do you mean the guard was trying to help you?” said Clara. “Who is he?”

“Calling himself Alpha Two,” replied Ashildr, thinking back, “said I should let things play out, that everything would be OK and that all the people would be saved, gave me a skin patch and some of the yellow liquid and moved the TARDIS key into the inner pocket of my jacket. Also told me to do my jacket up. Strange.”

“What did he look like?” Clara asked. “One of the guards that handcuffed you looked at me weirdly.”

“Quite short, grey blue eyes, soft voice, also knew my real name,” Ashildr looked out at the stars. The number on the pebble changed to ‘2’ before her eyes. “Said if he was Alpha Two, then I should ask who Alpha One was.”

“Oh great, a cryptic message, how helpful,” said Clara sarcastically. “So... where are they now?”

“The grey haired man, the woman, the boy and one guard are all at the south operations centre as I shot the mainframe computer. The Russian, Alpha Two and another guard, Sierra Five are going to somewhere called NR1.”

“Wow, they really love a phonetic name, don’t they?” Clara laughed.

“Phonetic name?” said Ashildr, confused. “What’s that?”

“All their names are phonetic, I would be Charlie, Francis would be Foxtrot, Kodey would be... Kilo? Stuff like that.” said Clara. “Picked up some military stuff whilst I was with the Doctor.”

“Oh I see,” said Ashildr, “so I would be Mike?”

“Exactly, well, depending on what name you’re going by,” said Clara snidely. “So if they’ve all moved out, who’s at the operations centre?”

“I saw a few staff marched down some stairs, but it should be empty,” Ashildr answered.

“And the sunglasses?” asked Clara.

“I had them, but that helpful guard took them with him as we left the operations centre,” said Ashildr, “he actually almost left them there.”

“I like this man,” Clara laughed, “maybe we should bring him with us when all of this is over?”

“What have you been doing?” asked Ashildr changing the subject, trying to take her mind off watching the pulsade. It still said ‘2’.

“Oh, nothing really, just running from zombies and drones, you know, as you do. I’ve been busy collecting a squad, there’s me, Kodey, Francis and our newest recruit Sky,” said Clara.

“Who’s wearing the green suit?” asked Ashildr, trying to distract herself.

“You saw that?” Clara laughed, “that’s Francis.”

“Hi,” said another male voice from the other end of the line.

The charge number changed to ‘1’.

“OK,” said Ashildr, nervously, beginning to get a little scared, “the number now says one.”

“I’ve been into deep space before-” Clara started.

“Of course you have,” said Ashildr under her breath.

“Really? You’re doing this now?” Clara snapped. “It was the day I met you actually, hence why I was wearing a spacesuit.”

“I always did wonder that,” Ashildr said. “But you always had the Doctor to save you, didn’t you?”

“Yes, and he did,” Clara replied. “But only a second before I was eaten by a Love Sprite. The only reason we were in the Viking times was because he went out to wipe his shoe-”

“Oh great,” said Ashildr, taking a deep breath, “for a second there I thought it was just to make me immortal and then disappear for three hundred years... then five hundred years and then, oh yes, let me think, five and a half billion years,” Ashildr said snidely. “He wasn’t the only one who waited.”

“For god’s sake Me, I’m trying to help you,“ Clara sighed loudly. “Look, I was trying to say, it’s not that bad. Just make sure anything you want to keep is in a secure pocket or it will float away,” Clara said. “And do your coat up or it too will float away.”

“You sound like that guard,” laughed Ashildr as a wave of nerves hit her.

“No I don’t, it’s basic common sense. I will come and pick you up once we’re out, OK?” Clara said.

“Only if it’s not too much trouble for you,” Ashildr said, trying to tone down the sarcasm, realising she was probably being unreasonable. “I should go, need to prepare for an impromptu space walk without a spacesuit.”

“I’m sure you’ll live,” Clara sighed.

“Will I?” Ashildr sighed, kicking the pulsade away as hard as she could ahead of her. “Bye then.”

“See you-” Clara said as Ashildr cut her off, pressing the red button on the phone to end the call. She was feeling a curious mix of infuriation, nervousness and resignation. She was genuinely unsure whether Clara would be able to save her and what was going to happen.

Ashildr quickly unzipped the inner pocket of her jacket, putting the phone in, along with the key, the yellow liquid and the skin patch. She checked her other pockets, only finding the map, which she also moved over.

She exhaled as she closed up the pocket swiftly, pulling up the main zip on the jacket, pressing the all of the buttons down with soft pops. She smoothed down Clara's coat as she waited for the inevitable to happen. She hated to admit it, but she actually felt more than a little scared, unable to recall a time she had been set into deep space.

A loud beep engulfed the tube, followed by a bang and a sucking noise. 

Ashildr saw the glass tube shatter into a million pieces ahead of her and waited for the pressure to drag her outside. She saw the centre begin to spin away from her, unable to breathe in the vacuum, choking to the back of her throat. She instantly realised she knew where she had seen Alpha Two’s eyes and voice the second before as she lost consciousness being pulled roughly out of the space, floating unsupported towards the stars.


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a side note - I'm now back to one story thread from now on.

Clara pressed the red button on the phone, watching as Ashildr's contact name faded to black. She loudly put the handset down on the top surface of the white box and then massaged her temples for a minute. 

Kodey and Francis looked between each other, unsure what to do. Kodey moved to put a hand on her left shoulder. She smiled back at him.

“Are you sure there’s nothing going on between you?” Francis sniggered. “There seems to be a lot of... err... unresolved issues-”

“No,” Clara snapped, still rubbing her head, “we’re just learning how to deal with each other in situations like this.” She was a little frustrated with Ashildr, but under the circumstances she decided to let it go. She sighed loudly looking sideways.

Francis and Kodey exchanged knowing smiling glances between each other.

"That guard said she was going to be OK," Francis eventually offered, to her other side.

"Yeah," said Clara, "I know. I know." She hopped down from the white box, noticing the banging from the grill had now subsided. "I just guess it's up to me to save everyone now. She'll be fine," said Clara, uncomforted by her own words. Ashildr had been let out of an airlock and she currently had no way of saving her. Sky clung on to her right leg tightly, Clara looked down at her softly, picking her up and sitting her on top of the white unit.

"Are you OK?" said Clara, stroking Sky's cheek gently.

"Has the game finished?" Sky asked, sniffling.

"What game?" Clara remembered, "oh yes, the quiet game. Yes it has," she laughed, "and you were the winner, well done." Clara imagined she must be terrified.

“Who was that?” she asked, pointing at the phone handset.

“That was one of my other friends,” Clara looked towards the mobile. “She’s called Sheila,” Clara smirked.

“Where is sheee-la?” Sky asked, rubbing her eyes.

“She’s been taken by the big purple men as well,” Clara lowered her head. “But she’s very strong. Also very old.”

Sky smiled slightly at her, still teary. "Where are my mummy and daddy?"

"We're going to help you find them," Clara said slowly. "Me, Kodey and Francis are going to help you find them, OK?"

Sky nodded, kicking her legs out and back onto the edge of the white box, causing it to rattle slightly.

"So what do we do?" asked Kodey, stood on her right.

Clara pulled out her map and unfolded it on the top surface of the white box. "Where are we now?" Sky reached out for the floating hologram, mesmerised as her hand movements spun it around.

"P145, service areas," pointed Francis, picking up the map to hold it out of Sky’s reach. A white dot was pulsing where they were.

"Which operations centre do we need to go to? What did Sheila say?" said Clara.

"West," said Kodey, "definitely west, she said they had moved to the south afterwards." He adjusted the crowbar in the belt of his jeans.

"OK, so where is the west operations centre?" she asked the map. 

A small white dot appeared, much closer to the central square than they were, but on the other side, marked with D675. "And how do we get there?" 

A white line appeared on the map, directing them towards the end of the corridor, where Francis had seen a docking station.

"Everybody agree we should go there?" Clara asked, looking at Kodey and Francis in turn. They both nodded in reply. "Good," she smiled, "that sounds like a plan then." Sky was transfixed by the moving image.

Clara folded up the map, and was going to put it in her pocket when she stopped.

"Sky, do you want to do something very brave and very important for me?" Clara asked, stooping down to look at her, smiling.

"Yes," Sky nodded.

"I need you," Clara held out the red map towards her, "to look after this for me, can you do that?"

Sky took the map from her, inspecting it closely with her hands. "Yes," she said, smiling.

"Put it in your pocket," she indicated the chest on her pink dungarees, "and when we need to know where to go you can show us." She squeezed Sky's right shoulder.

Sky put the map in her pocket and smiled proudly to herself.

"You can be our... navigator," Clara said, holding her right index finger in the air.

"What's a n-n-alligator?" Sky asked. Francis moved a few paces up the corridor, impatiently putting his hands on hips, looking up at the ceiling.

Clara laughed to herself, Kodey raised a small smile. She hadn't had much interaction with children this young, she had forgotten how innocent they were. "It's a nav-eee-gate-or."

"What's a nav-eee-gate-or?" Sky repeated.

"It's someone who tells us where to go and makes sure we don't get lost," Clara said, "it's a big job, and," she lowered her voice, pulling close to her, "I think you'd be better than Kodey and Francis."

"Hey!" Kodey said, playing along, smiling. "I'd be an excellent navigator."

"I've already got one, Kodey," Clara said, tilting her head. "Sorry."

"Don’t you think we should be getting going?" said Francis, loudly.

Sky cowered away from Francis, towards Kodey and Clara.

“Oh, it’s ok, Sky,” she said, smiling at her. “That’s why Francis can’t be our navigator.” She looked towards him with a cheeky glint in her eye. “Because...” she paused looking towards Kodey, “he’s got his grumpy pants on.” She winked back at Sky.

“Are you serious?” said Francis, unimpressed, “haven’t we got more important issues than what trousers I’m wearing. Strewth! Zombie attack much?” he put his hands on his waist, underneath his jacket, checking his watch impatiently.

“Look at him,” Clara pointed, doing a comical frown, tilting her head down, “he’s a big old grumpy pants, isn’t he?”

Kodey laughed back at her, adding, “big old, bright green grumpy pants.”

Francis massaged the bridge of his nose, sighing loudly. 

Sky giggled childishly. “Grumpy... pants. That’s funny.”

“So will you be our navigator?” Clara asked.

“Yes,” said Sky, smiling.

“That is very good news,” Clara rubbed Sky’s left shoulder. “So then, Navigator Sky, shall we go?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Let’s go then!” she said enthusiastically, pointing. Sky shouted excitedly, Clara was glad this approach was working on someone.

Francis had already moved a little way down the walkway. She picked up her phone, putting it into her right pocket, retrieved the shotgun from the floor and slung it over her left shoulder, leaving Kodey to help Sky down from the white box. She lightly jogged up the corridor to catch Francis up.

“Grumpy pants?” Francis shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” she said, a smile betraying her words. “You know, travelling with kids is difficult, we need to look after her.”

“It’s OK, I understand,” Francis conceded.

“I took ten twelve year olds overnight to a museum about a year ago, and it was a complete nightmare,” she paused as they walked, “an impromptu worldwide forest sprung up, there was a solar flare, wolves, a stray tiger and I almost lost one of them. I say almost, I actually did lose one of them, but she ended up with the Doctor so, not technically lost-”

“You sound like an excellent teacher,” Francis said loaded with sarcasm, making his way forward. They were within fifty metres of a left turn.

“I’ll have you know I’m the world’s best,” Clara said smugly, “I’ve got the mug and everything.”

Francis looked at her curiously. “And which world is that?”

“Earth,” Clara replied, as Kodey and Sky caught up with them.

“So you’re an Earth girl-“ Francis started, smiling.

“I’d prefer woman,” Clara interrupted.

“Sorry,” Francis corrected himself, “Earth… woman.”

“Better,” Clara smirked.

“I’ve never been to Earth,” Kodey sighed, “we’ve, I mean, me and my wife, we’ve always wanted to go.”

“I don’t recognise your accent,” Francis asked, “where on Earth are you from?”

“Blackpool,” Clara answered.

“Haven’t heard of it,” Francis said.

“It’s up north, my accent, me, I’m one hundred percent northern,” Clara explained, “no need to guess where you’re from.”

“Why?” said Francis.

“Your accent,” Clara said laughing, “you’re obviously from Australia.”

Francis laughed. “I’m not from... Australia.”

“Let me guess,” Kodey said, “Amatraxos?” He pulled Sky along by her hand.

“Spot on, mate,” Francis looked back and smiled. “Born and bred Amatraxi.”

“But your voice?” Clara asked, perplexed.

“My,” he thought in his head, “great great great great,” he paused, “great great great great... great grandmother was from... Australia, but they moved out over a thousand years ago.”

“Where’s Amatraxos?” Clara asked.

“Three light days from here,” Francis replied, flashing his white teeth, “it’s where we get the marble.”

“Ohhh, I see,” said Clara. They were approaching a left hand turn in the corridor.

“I’ve been,” Kodey said, “we sourced components for some of our weapons there. It’s beautiful.”

“When we get out of here I’ll be sure to pay a visit,” Clara smiled. “Might even be able to drop you back. Everyone still up for the pub?” she called out, rhetorically.

They turned left and saw a large black empty square area. Francis walked forward a few paces and then a large shutter opened further down with a grinding metallic noise. A pod rolled towards them from the darkness, stopping still three feet from them. The red laser outline appeared on the side nearest to them, opening the hatch to get in.

“Looks like our taxi has arrived,” Clara said, smiling. 

Francis clambered in, holding the bottom of the raised glass panel, taking the far right seat, settling himself in the white plastic chair. Sky pushed past Clara and Kodey’s legs, climbing onto both seats to the left in a way only a child could, scrambling with her upper body until she was able to swing her feet down and sit in the seat opposite Francis. He looked at Sky curiously.

“You’re... grumpy pants,” Sky said, smiling.

Francis poked his tongue out semi-playfully, narrowing his eyes at her. Sky mimicked his actions and then laughed.

Clara stooped to sit in the seat on the left, putting the shotgun onto the table in front of her gently. Kodey sat down opposite her.

‘Please state your destination,’ said the pod’s mechanical tones.

“Err... west operations centre?” Clara said to the ceiling.

‘Please scan your tag,’ boomed the voice inside the pod. A black stick rose from the table in between her and Kodey.

“OK, now we might have a problem,” Clara said, looking around at the four of them. “Whose tag can we scan? I can’t scan the patch as the bad guys will find out where we are. Francis, do you have access to the operation centre?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so, only the warehouse areas. I can try?” He held his hand underneath the laser scanner before Clara could stop him.

‘Insufficient access privileges for destination. Please scan your tag,’ the pod stated flatly.

“Kodey?” asked Clara.

“I’m just here shopping with my family,” he sighed, “I’m a no-one.”

“Sky?” Clara asked, knowing it was a stupid idea, but worth a try. “Do you want to scan your hand?”

Sky instantly stood up onto the chair and stepped unsteadily onto the table, her black shoes tapping on the surface. She dropped to her knees and held her hand towards the red light.

‘Insufficient access privileges for destination. Please scan your tag.’

Sky crawled onto Clara and wrestled her body back to her seat, aiming a soft unintentional kick into the left hand side of Clara’s chest.

“Anybody got any ideas?” Clara asked, rubbing her ribs. Francis and Kodey shrugged their shoulders.

‘Please scan your tag,’ the pod helpfully reminded her, ‘or security will be called.’

“Well, that’s just great,” Clara sighed, rubbing her head.


	44. Chapter 44

"Ideas?" Clara said quickly. "Anybody?"

Kodey and Francis looked at each other, offering no solutions.

"OK," she said, "everyone empty your pockets, let's see what we have to work with."

'Please scan your tag,' the pod repeated.

Kodey took out a small credit card size steel blue piece of metal that was cycling family photos on it, a small black stylus and three black cylindrical futuristic looking key fobs. "I've got nothing," he said, replacing the items.

"I've only got my quote pad and my access keys," Francis said, holding up a small paper notebook with a pen and a set of two metal key fobs of a similar size to Kodey's.

'Please scan your tag or security will be called,' the pod boomed.

"OK, well, I've only got my keys," she pulled out the TARDIS key and her phone onto the tabletop, "my phone... Sky has my map, the skin patch thing we can't use and this," she threw the psychic paper down lazily onto the table between her and Kodey, annoyed. She put her head in her hands, "I guess we need to try something else, let's get out of here before they call security." She collected her phone and keys and stowed them in her pockets. She unzipped the main zip of her jacket as she thought.

'Fastening seatbelts,' the pod boomed.

"What?" Clara said, shocked, looking around. "What did we do?"

Kodey pointed down as the white metal bar appeared across his lap. The psychic paper had flapped open and was displaying an image on it similar to the tattoo she had on her hands. "How did it just do that?" The black scanner melted into the table.

“Nice!” said Clara, picking up the psychic paper with her right hand. She smiled at the others, holding it up. “Told you it comes in useful.”

The seatbelts fixed into position, with Sky’s clanking several times until it was tight against her stomach. She giggled loudly. The glass hatch to Clara’s right sealed with the disappearing red laser and the smallest of hisses.

‘Preparing for transportation to west operations centre, please hold on,’ the pod said.

“How does a piece of paper do that?” Kodey said, trying to reach for it, “that sort of technology doesn’t exist.”

“It’s not mine,” Clara said, moving it away from him, putting it inside her left pocket, “a friend of mine left his bag at my place and it was in it.”

“Sounds a bit shonky to me,” said Francis, raising an eyebrow.

“Shonky?” Clara screwed up her face.

“You robbed it,” Francis offered, grinning.

“Oh, no, I didn’t steal it,” Clara tilted her head, “but does he know I have it? Probably not.” She smiled to herself. 

The pod lurched forward loudly towards a shaded area, clunking along a conveyor belt. It dropped down a few inches, Sky laughed, kicking her legs against the table. It came to a complete stop in pitch darkness.

“I don’t like this bit,” said Clara, nervously.

“Don’t be such a wuss,” Francis laughed. “It’s not that bad.”

The pod accelerated quickly to the left pushing Clara’s body towards the right of the seat, she flailed her arms around trying to grab hold of something, eventually planting her right hand on the glass next to her. It was travelling faster than she had remembered. The shotgun fell to the floor on the right hand side with a loud clatter. Kodey’s crowbar tapped against the rear wall as they moved.

After a minute it came to a sudden stop, leaving Clara fighting for breath, even though she knew she didn’t have to breathe any more. Kodey and Francis looked unaffected and Sky sat giggling next to her, trying to climb out against the belt.

“Again!” Sky squealed.

“It really is that bad,” said Clara, rubbing the right side of her head to subside a sudden headache. “This and the transmission I could easily do without.”

“But then how would you get around?” Kodey asked. “You’d be walking for days!”

“I suppose,” Clara reflected as the pod began to move backwards. “At least I’m not feeling sick now. I suppose that’s something. Me, she keeps on throwing up every time she goes on anything,” Clara said with a wry smile.

“Round my way we call it a technicolour yawn,” Francis laughed as the pod jumped up a few inches below them.

“A technicolour yawn?” Clara was unable to stop herself from sniggering. “What a delightful use of the English language.”

The pod rolled to a stop underneath a bright spotlight.

“Are we here?” asked Clara, looking around.

“I don’t know,” admitted Francis, “never actually been into the Ops Centre.”

The familiar red laser appeared around the edges of the hatch as it lifted up to Clara’s right.

‘Unfastening seatbelts,’ the pod announced, causing them all to look towards the roof of the pod. The white bar disappeared off their laps. Sky squirmed around, swinging her legs up so she could stand on the seat. She tried to reach the ceiling of the pod but couldn’t.

Clara leaned down to pick up the shotgun and then hauled herself unsteadily out onto an illuminated black platform. Her balance was off for a few steps before the dizziness subsided. She held out her left hand for Sky, who walked across her now empty seat. Sky grabbed her outstretched hand and jumped clumsily to the platform, immediately wanting to march down the corridor. Clara stopped her as Kodey and Francis emerged out of the pod.

Kodey pulled up the sleeves of his torn red jumper past his elbows where they had slipped down. He moved the crowbar towards the centre of his belt.

Francis checked his sparkling silver watch. Clara peered over to see the time, she sighed, knowing an expensive watch when she saw one.

“11.30am. And that is a nice watch,” she smiled, transfixed. 

“Prezzie from my dad on my eighteenth, the face is the same marble we use for the floors in here,” Francis smiled his perfect set of teeth. 

“Wow,” said Clara, seeing the green colour and understanding what he meant. “I bought one earlier, before all of this happened,” she paused, “do you think I’ll actually get it when we get out of here?” Sky tugged on her arm.

“If we get out of here,” said Kodey.

“Kodey, come on,” Clara looked at him, “we are going to get out of here, as someone very famous once said, don’t stop believing.”

“Who was it?” Kodey asked.

“Journey,” Clara nodded, tilting her head. “Very famous philosopher around my neck of the woods, particularly popular with large groups of single women in Reflex on the Promenade on a Saturday evening. Has to be the original though, not the Glee version,” she mused. 

“Never heard of him,” Kodey said, confused.

“Shall we?” said Francis, heading down the brightly lit black corridor. Clara slung the shotgun over her shoulder and let Sky lead her in the same direction Francis was travelling. Kodey followed behind her.

The walkway led down to a large door with a silver wheel on it. There was a small covered black panel on the left. Francis tried to rotate the mechanism, unable to move it despite attempting both directions. He gave up after a minute.

“No, that is stuck fast,” Francis sighed, giving up.

“Grumpy pants not strong,” Sky taunted from below her. She tried to jump up to catch hold of the wheel, finding it was just out of her reach. She fell down to the floor clumsily.

“No,” Clara smiled to herself, "he's not."

"Let me try," said Kodey, striding over. He pulled the wheel strongly towards him, it didn't move. He pushed it the other way, still nothing. "No."

"Maybe you've loosened it?" Francis said, having another go, determined to not be outdone.

"Seriously?" Clara rolled her eyes, "this is not a pis-" she looked down at Sky sat down and stopped herself saying what she was going to, clearing her throat, "urination competition." She walked over to the small black panel on the left of the door. "If you want to do that, go and find a wall or something," she said wryly, ignoring their blank looks as she waved her hand.

The panel was six inches wide and ten inches tall. Clara touched the black brushed metal covering panel eventually after visually inspecting it, she touched the cover and it slid downwards gently, revealing a silver keypad and a tag scanner. There were no obvious wires to pull out or any other way to override the mechanism.

"Anyone seen any codes lying around?" Clara asked rhetorically. Francis and Kodey were stood a few feet behind, watching. She dug into her pocket and pulled out the psychic paper with her left hand. "OK, so, maybe this will work." She opened the wallet, only to find it blank.

"What does it say?" Kodey asked.

"Nothing," Clara put her left forearm against the wall, her right hand on her hip and leaned forward, resigned.

"So how are we supposed to get in?" Said Francis, pacing around, hands on his hips impatiently.

"Big old grumpy pants," said Sky, laughing again. "This feels… strange," she giggled. "Nine..."

"I know, this is strange, this is a very difficult situation that I currently have no way of getting out of," Clara said, not looking at her.

"We're doomed," sighed Kodey. "No matter what you say, we're all doomed." He put his back to the wall and slid down to sit on the ground, leaving the crowbar to clang loudly. He put his head in his hands.

Clara could see no way to get in, deciding to join Kodey, she pulled her skirt down and sat on the floor opposite him. She pulled out her phone and tried to see if there was anything that would be useful. Francis continued to pace around.

"Five... four... three," Sky sung to herself. She stepped heavily towards Clara and sat unceremoniously on the floor.

"What's that?" Clara said, half ignoring her, still looking at the phone. "Is that a song from school?"

"Oh... six one two," Sky hummed as she climbed on Clara unexpectedly. "No silly," she laughed, "Nine five four three oh six one two," she sung again. "It's here, Claaaara."

"Woah, OK, get off," said Clara, dropping her phone face down on the ground to move Sky back from her, "OK, you can come and sit with-" she stopped suddenly, seeing Sky holding something in her small hands.


	45. Chapter 45

"Sky?" Clara said, pointing at the skin graft she was holding. "Where did you get that?"

Sky clambered on her and pointed to Clara's jacket. "There." 

Clara felt in her pocket, realising it was Ashildr's, presuming it must have fallen out when she had taken out the psychic paper.

"Nine five four," Sky hummed to herself, hopping from her left foot to her right. Kodey was still hunched over and Francis had disappeared from view around the corner, "three oh six one four."

"Sky, can I see that? It looks very interesting," Clara said.

Sky hopped over towards her, sitting next to her against the wall. "It feels funny" she giggled, trying to stretch the material.

Clara took the skin graft out of Sky's hands and looked at the long code on the other side, figuring it was worth a shot. She stood up off the floor, using the wall to support herself, going to the small black panel. She typed in 95430612 onto the small silver buttons and the box emitted a soft dull click as she finished. She tried the wheel, still nothing. Clara decided to risk putting the skin graft into the hole as it seemed the only obvious way of working the mechanism. The keypad beeped loudly in agreement. 

Clara turned the wheel gently to find it now moved to the right. She allowed herself a mini fist pump, mouthing the word 'thank you' towards the ceiling, before beginning to wonder how the code for the operations centre had got onto the back of the skin graft that had been lasered onto Ashildr’s hand as they walked in. Her head hurt as she thought how that could even be possible.

She put the skin graft back in her pocket, deciding to work that out later. 

"Guys?" she shouted out loudly, smiling to herself. Kodey looked up at her from the ground to her right, Francis appeared behind.

"Found something?" Francis said.

"You could say that," smirked Clara, easily moving the wheel to the right triumphantly.

"How are you doing that?" said Kodey, surprised. "I couldn't move it-"

"That was stuck fast!" exclaimed Francis. "What did you do?"

"Claaaara is very strong," Sky offered helpfully below.

"Well… I suppose that is the only explanation," Clara said smugly, eyes twinkling. The wheel stopped after a few turns and the vault door opened heavily inwards with a small hiss. She could sense Kodey and Francis looking at each other behind her. "So what do we have in here?" Clara announced as they walked cautiously inside.

The dark circular room was covered in projected video screens all the way round and up to a high ceiling. There was a large oval table underneath a central column with numerous empty desks surrounded by black scaffolding supports. The ceiling was too high to see the top of, disguised with black paint.

"You know, if it was me designing an operations centre," Clara said quietly, "it would probably look exactly like this."

Francis nodded to her left, looking towards the ceiling.

Sky ran past the three of them, skidding on the side of her legs along the smooth polished concrete floor. She giggled when she came to a stop in a small collection of dust and a few stones of concrete, kicking away what could only have been a discarded bullet casing with a metallic clink as she stood up to run back. She ran through a small pool of blood on the floor, leaving a trail of small dark red footprints behind her.

"Sky," Clara said, cautiously scoping out the area, unconsciously adjusting the shotgun on her shoulder. "Come back here, stay with Kodey," she said as she pushed the vault door closed.

"Aww," Sky protested, running and sliding back towards Kodey.

Clara looked up at the video screens, they were scrolling through various camera angles which showed feeds of large areas of the shopping centre. One screen showed a large movement of people running around, another had a space of people sat waiting. A large screen to her right showed a group of purple figures shuffling slowly along from right to left. One on the other side had the scenes of a fight breaking out between people. She had to do something to help, trying to not look at the scenes of destruction all around.

A small projection on the left displayed the time, it was 11.45am, the donations totalled 49% and the number of infected had risen 1,753,040. Clara whistled quietly to herself.

Francis walked behind a large black leather chair on a foot-high platform to the left. He moved around to a metal cupboard, edged away from the wall on the left side, inspecting a small hole in the front with his fingertips.

Clara looked at the chair, presuming it was where Ashildr had been held. She tried to contain a loud squeal as she saw what was on the seat of the chair. 

The sonic sunglasses. 

"Yes!" she shouted, striding off to collect them.

"What's happened?" Kodey asked, trying to restrict Sky running off to follow Clara.

"Our day has just dramatically improved, that's what's happened!" Clara said excitedly. She picked up the sunglasses and hugged them against her chest. "I know you are wearable technology," she said as she unfolded them in front of her face, "but I really need to get something that can't be broken in half or stolen from my pocket," she sighed as they emitted a soft purring noise.

"They're just sunglasses," offered Kodey. “What can they do?”

"So yeah… these are not just sunglasses," she said smiling, pointing them at Kodey, "if you think the psychic paper is amazing, then just wait until you see what these can do." 

"I think this is the computer that Sheila shot," Francis said loudly to her right. Kodey moved over to join them, dragged along by Sky.

Clara put the sunglasses on top of her head, folded her arms and wandered over. She crouched down to inspect the hole in the front with the index finger of her right hand. 

"Yep, that is definitely a gun shot,” Clara nodded. “Let’s let these bad boys have a look at the circuits, shall we?" she said, pointing to the sunglasses, moving round to her left to join Francis. She put her right hand towards her head to move them down and scan the computer when something stopped her.

A large, heavy thud further inside the room caused the three of them to stop still and face the direction of the noise. There were a few muffled shouts and several softer bangs which continued.

Clara stood up silently, taking the shotgun off her shoulder and into her right hand, holding the trigger, facing the others as she put her left index finger to her lips. She moved softly in the direction of the disturbance, holding the barrel of the shotgun in her left hand. Clara glanced around her surroundings, searching for the source of the noise, sliding around the circular platform that contained the large table. The lights from the video screens reflected on the scaffolding and the highly polished floor. Still unable to attribute the noise to anything she could see, she edged further around, hearing more muffled shouts.

After a few paces she caught sight of the side of a person, looking around eagerly in her direction. She inched forward, now able to see it was a black man sat on the floor against the platform edge, his hands tied behind his back to one of the scaffolding supports, mouth covered with some sort of silver gaffer tape. He noticed her and let out a quiet muffled shout. 

Clara kept moving, seeing another three people tied up in the same way, all wearing black zip-up jumpsuits that had bright red vertical strips along the outer edges and the letters 'TCM' printed in red on the left chest. Each of them followed her silently as she went past, becoming quiet. She did a full lap of the platform just to be sure there was nobody else lurking in the room.

"Francis, Kodey," Clara shouted, jogging back around. "Help me, we've got four people tied up over here!" She dropped the shotgun on the floor as she approached the first man she'd seen on the way around. "Oh my god, let me untie you," she said to the man and a woman with white hair, crouching on the floor, she felt the smooth concrete thanks to the rip in her tights on her right knee. Clara moved around to see his hands, noticing they were restrained with a thin white plastic style rope. Kodey and Francis ran to join her, starting with the two people at the far side.

Clara pulled at the tight knot with her fingers for a few seconds before it released and the man was able to move his arms forward. He rubbed each of his wrists in turn before carefully removing the tape on his mouth. His eyes watered as it pinched his skin to expose his mouth.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" he said in a British accent, almost crying, unexpectedly hugging Clara tightly. "I thought we'd never be released!" His large frame made it feel like a bear was cuddling her.

"You're... welcome?" said Clara awkwardly, smiling slightly. Kodey had managed to free a woman on the other end, she stood up and paced around, also rubbing her wrists.

The man pulled away from Clara, stopping the almost suffocating hug, rolling up the tape that had been on his mouth between his hands into a ball and throwing it away towards the edge of the room. He massaged his wrists again, sighing heavily. She looked at his face, he smiled kindly back at her. He had inch long buzz cut black hair and a well similar length beard. He had sparkling diamond earrings which accentuated his almost crystal clear blue eyes.

Clara moved to the next woman along, releasing her easily as the knot was not as tight. She was very pale, had light purple eyes and completely white hair, she looked young, Clara estimated she was mid-twenties at very most. The jumpsuit looked a size too big on her.

She removed the tape in one ripping motion, leaving a bright red mark around her mouth. "Who are you?" she said loudly in a more pronounced English accent after pulling it off. "How did you get in here?" She immediately stood up and walked backwards towards where the video screens were. "How did you get security clearance?" she said, turning around to narrow her eyes at Clara.

"Really, Roo?" the black man said as he got slowly to his feet, using the scaffolding to support him. “The woman’s just freed us and that’s what you’re asking?”

“We’re in the middle of some sort of sustained attack, Leon, and you’re having a go at me for asking who these people are?” Roo said. “They could be anybody. She’s got a gun.”

Francis and Kodey had freed the others, who were in various stages of getting up from the floor.

Clara stood up, walking backwards, deciding to address the group and establish what was going on. Kodey and Francis were standing to her left, backing off as well, Leon and Roo were on her right, along with the two others in black jumpsuits. Sky was amusing herself running around the circular column that housed the table.

“Hello,” Clara said, seeing everyone turn to look at her, “I’m sure everybody here has a lot of questions-“

“My first one is,” interrupted Roo, folding her arms, leaning back against a horizontal scaffolding support, “who the hell are you?”


	46. Chapter 46

“OK, let me address that first,” Clara said, realising Roo was going to resist any sort of authority. “I’m...” she really wanted to say ‘The Doctor’ but it just didn’t seem right. She needed to give herself an impressive title if she was going to go around saving people, she tried to think of something.

“Yes?” said Roo impatiently, breaking Clara’s concentration.

“I’m...” Clara paused for another second, unable to come up with anything. “Sorry, my name is Clara.”

“Clara what?” asked Roo suspisciously.

“Clara Oswald,” she replied. She really hated using her last name.

“And what are you doing in here, Clara Oswald?” Roo sneered. “Don’t recall seeing your name on the entry sheets.”

“Look, I know you have a lot of questions,” she said, exasperated, directed at Roo, “but this is not being especially helpful-”

“I’ll show you-” Roo began to move towards her.

“Wind your neck in, Roo,” Leon said, putting his right arm out to stop her pacing towards Clara. “Let her talk.”

“Thank you,” Clara acknowledged after a small pause, folding her arms. “Now why don’t we go around the room and all introduce ourselves-”

“We’re not on some sort of team building exercise here,” said Roo, talking over her, scowling. “We’re in the middle of a-”

“No, correct, we’re not-” Clara started.

“What do you want? Name, where you’re from, what you do and a fun fact about ourselves?” Roo replied sarcastically, laughing. “What are you? Some sort of school teacher?” Roo put her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes.

“Actually she is,” said Kodey, helpfully.

“Why does everybody always think I’m a teacher? Is it the clothes?” Clara said out loud, looking down at herself. “Let me start then,” Clara said quickly. “My name is Clara, I’m from Earth, and yes I’m a teacher, was a teacher, now I guess you could say I’m a professional traveller,” she aimed outwards, “and let me think, a fun fact about myself,” she put the knuckle of her right index finger to her lips, looking towards the ceiling, smiling to herself. She wanted to tell them she could travel in time but didn’t feel it was the right moment. “Hmm, a fun fact... about myself... I am very good at Trivial Pursuit.”

“What’s that?” Roo said, shaking her head, pacing towards her. “Show me some identification. Now.”

“If you insist,” Clara nodded, digging out the psychic paper from her right pocket. She held it up in front of Roo’s face, “here.”

Roo ripped the leather red edged wallet from her hand. “This says you’re Captain Clara Oswald, intelligence services,” said Roo quietly, immediately backing off, handing it back to Clara, the little colour she had on her face draining.

Kodey and Francis looked at each other, smiling between themselves.

“Does it?” said Clara, smiling. She sighed to herself, realising now how easy it was for the Doctor to persuade people he was in charge. “So now we’ve all established who I am, let’s go around the room and introduce ourselves. I’m easy on the fun fact, I mean, you can if you want to lighten the mood, but you don’t have to.” She pointed towards Leon with her head, folding her arms, finding that everyone was now listening to her.

“Hello, I’m Leon,” he waved to the group, smiling, “security manager. I’m currently TMC pinball champion.”

“Roo,” she said shortly, “information analyst.”

“I’m Flack,” said a tall young dark haired gangly man further down, “security operative. I once made Liz Ten a cup of tea.

”Who’s Liz Ten?” Clara asked.

“The queen of England,” Flack said, creasing his eyebrows, “everyone knows Liz Ten. You even live there, how do you not know?”

“Oh yes,” Clara backtracked quickly, “that Liz Ten. I thought… err… you meant someone called Lizten… not Liz… Ten…” she trailed off.

“Trudi,” a middle aged woman with a long brown hair said nervously, “security operative. I… enjoy knitting?”

“I’m Francis Grenello,” he said confidently, putting his hands on his hips under his jacket, “you should know who-”

“The... Francis Grenello?” gasped Trudi, blushing slightly. “Oh my god,” she breathed. Clara recognised the look she was displaying, Trudi fancied him. Clara smiled to herself.

“The marble guy?” said Flack as Trudi grabbed his right shoulder lightly.

“Yes,” Francis replied, smiling widely, “I prefer executive marble retailer, but I suppose the marble guy will do.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t recognise you!” said Leon, excitedly, extending his palm for a handshake, “I loved that interview you did for the Amatraxos Chronicle last year, really interesting. Wait until I tell the guys back at base station about this! I’ll drink free for a year.”

“I had no idea you were so famous, Francis,” Clara said, impressed, folding her arms, raising an eyebrow.

“You never asked,” said Francis grinning, finishing shaking Leon’s hand.

“I find it hard to believe that someone who works in the intelligence service doesn’t know who he is,” Roo said suspiciously, pointing at Francis.

Sky ran into Clara’s legs from behind her, almost knocking her off balance.

“I’m really not from around here,” said Clara, ignoring her, “let’s finish this, shall we? This is Sky,” Clara pointed down, “she’s five and she has lost her parents. Also currently our navigator. Kodey?”

“Ok, well, I’m Kodey,” he said, “senior weapon designer at MWC.”

“MWC?” Roo asked quietly. 

“What’s MWC?” asked Clara.

“Military Weapons Corporation,” Roo answered quickly, still looking sideways at Clara. “What are you doing here? What is MWC doing inside the TMC?”

“You guys really do love a three letter acronym, don’t you?” Clara observed under her breath.

“Nothing, honestly,” said Kodey, obviously used to defending his choice of employer, “I’m off this week, I was here shopping with my wife and daughter until they were...” He looked down at his shoes.

“How can you work for them?” Roo demanded.

“Leave him alone,” Leon said, pointing at her, “we’ve all got to earn a living.”

“Right,” said Clara loudly, rubbing her head, trying to get everybody’s attention. “Now that we’ve all finished with the very awkward introductions, no sure if anyone else has noticed,” she half looked towards Roo as she searched for information on a screen to her left, “but we have almost two million infected zombies roaming around this place,” she pointed up towards the video screens, “causing all kinds of panic and chaos and we’ve also people from an organisation willing to kill all of the eight hundred million people in here with two nuclear reactors, which, I don’t know about all of you, but.” she paused for breath, “that doesn’t make me feel especially comfortable. And not wishing to be unfair, but I think we have more pressing issues to deal with than what company pay people’s wages.”

There were stunned looks of silence around the group, accompanied by faint nods.

“Good,” said Clara, nodding confidently. “Glad we are all agreed on that.”

A silence hung in the air for a moment. Sky skidded on the floor between the group, laughing to herself.

“So, I suggest,” Clara thought for a moment, “we all sit down, have a brainstorm about what we can do,” she pointed to the table, “and make a plan.”

“Who has put you in charge?” asked Roo.

“Nobody,” said Clara, tilting her head, “But I’m pretty good in a crisis situation, very good in a pub quiz and an exceptional runner.” She walked up the two stairs to the platform, pulling back one of the nearby white chairs, sitting down facing away from the group, going to put her feet up on the table but stopping herself as she realised she was wearing quite a short dress. She made a mental note to wear something more practical on their next adventure, should she survive. “I’ve also just walked into the operations centre of the universe’s biggest shopping centre without being stopped with a celebrity, a military weapons designer and a five year-old. But if anyone else wants to take over, then please be my guest,” she invited, folding her arms, waiting for any sort of reaction.

“Well I trust her,” said Kodey, walking up to take a seat on her left. “She’s done pretty well so far.”

“Thank you,” said Clara, smiling at him, before adding quietly as a smug aside, “just pretty well?” 

“Me too,” said Francis, moving towards the platform. “You guys do realise that she is with the Sheila that they captured, don’t you?”

“What do you mean, with?” asked Leon, smiling. “Like that is it?”

“Don’t mention it,” Francis laughed, taking a seat on the left of Kodey, “bit of a touchy subject.”

“Seriously? Is that all you men can think about when you find out two women are travelling together?” Clara said, resigned.

“Ask her whether she’s her friend,” Kodey said to Leon, stifling a laugh, “I dare you.”

“Shut up,” said Clara, “all of you. We have more important things to discuss. So are all of you with me, or not?” Clara said, not looking back. “Because if you’re not, I will do it on my own, but it will be a whole lot easier if I have six people to help me.”

“Come on, everyone,” said Leon, walking to the platform, “she’s right.”

Leon took up an empty seat to Clara’s right. Trudi nervously sat next to Francis on Clara’s left, still blushing heavily. Flack pulled up a discarded seat, putting the back of the chair towards the table before he sat down facing forwards.

“What are you all doing?” said Roo. “What’s she going to do?”

Clara needed to do something with the sunglasses to get Roo on board. “You know... Roo wasn’t it?” Clara asked, not facing her, taking the sunglasses off her head into her right hand. 

“Yes,” Roo said, annoyed, from behind her.

“Do you know what these are?” Clara held them up. She looked around for something to use them on. There were lights on the ceiling, interspersed with sprinkler heads.

“Sunglasses,” Roo replied pointedly, “what the hell do you take me for?”

“Correct, they are sunglasses, well spotted,” Clara said sarcastically, “but they are special. They can do stuff. Cool stuff.”

“Special... sunglasses?” sneered Roo, “don’t make me laugh.”

“Let me show you,” Clara put them onto her head, pressing the button on the top. She just wanted to change the colours of the lights above them, knowing there wasn’t a setting for this, after what happened with the spotlight in the building site. There was an option to turn the lights into alarm mode, so she selected that. “How about some red lights?”

The bulbs above the table turned a blood red colour. Leon, Trudi and Flack all immediately stood up in their seats.

“Is that you?” asked Kodey, looking towards the ten foot high ceiling above them. Sky appeared on his right, trying to climb up on him.

“Pretty lights,” Sky giggled as Kodey picked her up and sat her on his lap.

“Yes, they are, aren’t they?” Clara said to her. She decided to phase the lights on and off. “How about red flashing lights?” she announced out.

“How are you doing that?” asked Leon. “You shouldn’t be able to... that is a protected protocol.”

“Oh, this?” Clara smirked, “it’s nothing. Just a cheap trick. Wait until you can see what they can actually do.”

The flashing lights continued for a thirty seconds. Clara folded her arms and crossed her legs, tilting her head.

“Turn them off,” Roo said behind her, “it’s giving me a headache.”

Clara left it a few seconds before pressing the button on top to return the lights to normal. She smirked to herself, pushing the sunglasses back on top of her head.

“OK,” said Roo, moving to sit down on a high stool, now the only free chair, directly opposite Clara. She narrowed her eyes, “so what’s your plan?”


	47. Chapter 47

“I’m still formulating it,” Clara deflected, she knew Roo was going to fight her on everything. “But if we are going for vague points,” she paused, “number one, get hold of that yellow liquid and put it into the air conditioning, two stop the Anti-Greed whatever, three save everyone and four... stop the nuclear reactors being bl-“ she stopped herself, continuing, “umm… potentially… blown up.” She paused. “And then leave. I’ve also promised these two a trip to the pub tomorrow,” she indicated to Kodey and Francis, pointing with her right hand, “so may need to work that in depending on how tasks one through four go-”

“And how do you propose we do all of that?” said Roo, clearly interrupting, testing her patience.

Clara ignored her. “So my first question is, does anybody outside of here know this is happening? I haven’t seen any police or security?”

Leon shook his head. “We only have minimal security in here, it’s all outsourced. The first thing they did was cut the external comms.”

“So as far as anyone is concerned, nothing untoward is happening?” Clara asked. “Surely if they are getting nothing they will be worried, right?”

"No," said Leon, shaking his head. “We are part of the EDS system, we have to tell them something is wrong.”

“EDS?” asked Clara, confused.

“Emergency Distress Signal,” Flack volunteered from the other side.

"OK," said Clara, thinking, "so can we restore it? I'm sure the police will be very interested with what is going on here."

"We can..." Leon started, looking pensive.

"Why do I feel like you're going to say 'but'?" Clara mused, raising an eyebrow.

"But-" Leon started.

"There you go," said Clara, nodding, "carry on.”

"But, every time it is switched off the access code is changed," Leon explained, "without the access code we cannot reinstate the line."

"Well," Clara smiled, "as luck would have it, I am a brilliant codebreaker."

"Really?" said Roo, unimpressed, folding her arms, leaning back on the stool as far as she could to display her annoyance.

"Yes, really," Clara mimicked her, creasing her eyebrows. "How do you think I got into here? Because I certainly did not break down that," she pointed towards the heavy vault door smugly, "did I? And not wishing to be big headed, but that was even before I got the sunglasses so..." Clara trailed off, leaving a silence hanging in the air.

Flack sniggered to himself to her left.

"So first things first… let's get a message out," Clara said, "where is it?"

Leon stood up and walked over to the small unit which had the gunshot in it. He crouched down to inspect the damage with the fingertips of his right hand as Clara walked over. "What has happened here?" Leon said, rubbing his head with his left hand. Roo had ventured from the platform to stand behind them, hands on her hips.

Clara laughed to herself. "That was Me."

"You did this?" Leon said. "How... why? Why would you do that? It’s our way of getting a message out!"

"No, it wasn't me, as in me right here," Clara said, "it was Me, the person they captured, the one that was sitting on that chair earlier." Clara pointed.

"What sort of name is that?" Leon asked, standing up.

"A very, very poor one, I keep telling her," Clara sighed to herself, "her real name's Ashildr, but for reasons I will explain later, we're kind of calling her Sheila now." Clara knelt down on the floor at the rear of the unit where it had been prised away from the wall. “It’s a personal thing,” she smiled wryly.

"Well, whoever she is," Leon looked at the screen above, "she is a very good shot, this thing is completely useless now. Unless we move to another operations centre we can't send anything out."

"Hmm," said Clara, pulling down the sunglasses on to her head, "let me have a look." She inspected the base unit, pressing the button on the right hand side. The inner sunglass lenses showed the wiring of the computer, quickly identifying the source of the failure, one wire that had been cut cleanly. "Ah ha," Clara said loudly. "She didn't actually do that much damage, not quite sure if that makes her a good shot or not, but I’m sure she’d say she was,” she mimicked Ashildr, “superb...” she paused, edging further inside the back of the unit. “Now if I can just fix that wire..." she trailed off, pressing the sunglasses between the bridge of her nose, directing them at the fault.

"You cannot fix a wire with a pair of sunglasses," Roo stated as if it were an established fact.

"Well I once told someone they couldn't kill a Dalek with a brooch," Clara replied, distracted, not looking at her, "and then they did, so..." Clara trailed off, she watched as the two ends of the wires snaked together magically. "Now if I can just..." she said as the wire began to fuse, eventually connecting after ten seconds. Inside the control box the mess of wires became alive with flickering coloured lights, emitting a soft whirring noise.

"Yes!" Clara said quietly to herself, allowing herself a small smile and a mini fist pump.

"How in heaven’s name did you do that?" asked Leon, searching out for an answer as the six screens turned on, illuminating the front of his face with a cold blue and white glow.

Clara stood up from behind the base unit, brushing a small patch of dust off her left knee. She folded up the sunglasses and held them in her hand. "Oh," she said purposely bashfully, "it was nothing. Right then, let's get a message out, shall we?" She raised an eyebrow towards Roo, letting the smallest of smiles pass her lips.

The others had ventured from the table to see the activity. Flack and Trudi were both stood, arms folded, to Leon's right, watching intently. Francis stood behind Clara, hands on his hips. Kodey was busy entertaining Sky, picking her up and holding her upside down by her feet. Roo had skulked away to sit lazily in the large leather chair, rotating it to put her feet up on a bar behind, back partially to the group.

"Are we going to send a distress message then?" asked Francis, "so that we can get out?"

"I hope so," said Clara.

Leon moved his hands on a large touchpad below the screens, scrolling through many options until he reached what he was looking for. It had a heading that said 'EXTERNAL COMMUNICATIONS' in large white capital letters, below that said 'CURRENTLY DISABLED' in smaller red letters and a green panel below that said 'ENABLE?'. Leon pressed the button on the screen and it changed to screen demanding a six digit passcode.

"I really hope this works," Clara laughed nervously to the group, slipping on the sunglasses again. She looked at the screen, allowing the glasses to absorb the information displayed. Her vision was completely blue as the lenses focussed in on the passcode characters, displaying an animation similar to a slot machine scrolling through letters and symbols one by one.

"Why the hell are we trusting her?" said Roo, getting up off the chair and walking over. "She could be doing anything to our systems and we wouldn't know."

"That..." Clara paused, "that is true." The sunglassess had figured out the first two digits. "But you are more than welcome to take over if you want?" she moved her hand up towards the sunglasses, to groans of disapproval from the others that were watching.

"No!" said Francis, "I really need to get off this rock, I have a very important meeting tomorrow."

"Yeah Roo," said Flack, "can't you please just give it a rest for a bit, she's obviously trying to help. Why would she untie us?"

Clara saw the fourth symbol appear in front of her eyes. She was slightly enjoying the drama she was creating, knowing she had dealt with enough unruly children to handle this effortlessly.

"All I'm saying is that she has just swanned in and taken over-" Roo started, pointing.

"That's kind of what she does now," Clara interrupted her loudly, emphasising the word 'she', "and that is Captain Oswald to you,” Clara said loudly, not acknowledging her. “You know, you should be very grateful that you've got me and not the guy I used to travel with, I bet you two would have got on like a house on fire," she said sarcastically. The fifth character was solved in her vision.

"Have you got the code?" Leon said, stepping in to mediate. "Please tell me you have?"

The sixth letter appeared. "OK," she said. "Try this... Golf... eight... ampersand... Yankee... six... and Mike."

Leon typed in the characters as she read them out. After the last letter he pressed a large white square tick on the right hand side and the screen flashed green, stating 'COMMUNICATIONS ENABLED.'

"Oh," said Clara triumphantly, turning to face Roo, folding up the sunglasses and putting them into her right jacket pocket, "would you look at that?" she smirked at her.

"Well, I'm impressed," said Leon. He pressed a large red button on a different screen that said 'EMERGENCY DISTRESS SIGNAL'. 

A red skeletal globe engulfed the screen, rotating on a vertical axis. After ten seconds a video feed of an empty desk and chair presented. There were many video feeds scrolling in the background. Clara moved her eyes closer to the screen to see what they were showing, noticing they appeared to be from inside the shopping centre. The screen nearest Flack and Trudi displayed a video of them, all peering at the console.

"Hello?" said Leon. "This is the TCM sending an EDS."

A middle aged man with spiky black hair rushed hurriedly from the left hand side of the screen, sitting down on the rotating chair, pulling on some white rimmed glasses. He was wearing a tight fitting dirty white jumpsuit with EDS in red letters on the front.

"Er- er- er," the man in the screen stuttered, "please state the nature of EDS."

"Code six, twelve, forty-nine and seventy-two," Leon reeled off efficiently. Trudi and Flack were on his right hand side, peering in, Clara was on Leon's left, Francis hovering over her, Kodey had pulled Sky in their direction, trying to be involved.

"And code thirty-four," Roo said, appearing on his right, arms folded, peering towards the screen. "The data, remember?"

"Oh yeah, and code thirty-four," Leon added.

"Which one?" the man asked, his eyes flipping around the screen.

"All of them Uri," Leon nodded, looking down.

"All of them?!" Uri replied incredulous from the screen, colour draining from his face. "Jeez Louise..."

"Main exits sealed, unable to implement evacuation protocols," Leon continued, "very bad day at the office."

"Understood," Uri acknowledged, pale, several other people had appeared in the background, inspecting the video screens behind him. "Initiating Code Black response as we speak. Total evacuation in T minus twelve h- h- h- h-" The screen froze as he was mid-sentence, the feed scrolling from top to bottom.

"What's happening?" asked Clara as the red globe appeared on the screen in front of them. '"EXTERNAL COMMUNICATIONS DISABLED' the screen flashed in red capital letters.

"They must have cut the feed again," said Leon, banging his fist on the bottom middle screen, causing it to glitch momentarily. He sighed and looked down exhaling. “How did they know what we doing?”

"Can't you start it up again?" said Flack to Clara and Leon, moving towards the screen.

"Is there a bypass?" asked Trudi, heading towards the control box.

"I can try," said Leon, typing on the touch pad again. "No!" he shouted loudly. "They've permanently disabled the link from this centre." He groaned, resting his weight on his hands.

"Let me try," said Clara, reaching for the sunglasses again. She put them on, letting them scan the system. A large white cross appeared in the centre of the right lens. "They've also blocked me," said Clara. "Great," she said sarcastically. She took off the sunglasses in her right hand and moved the right arm to her mouth as she thought of available options.

"What are we going to do now?" asked Kodey, behind her, carrying Sky in his arms. She looked half asleep and completely oblivious to the situation. "We are never going to get out of here are we?" he said quietly. “I’m never going to see them again-“

"Shh, Kodey," Clara said, "there's always something we can do."

"Well, at least we've got a message out," offered Leon, "and we do know what they are planning to do."

"So what's a... what did he say?" Clara asked, hands on her hips, walking away.

"Code black response," Leon replied, following her.

"Yeah, what's that?" Clara said, making her way back to the platform to sit down, pushing the sunglasses on top of her head. "Sounds... serious?"

"It's essentially a full evacuation," Leon signed, scratching his forehead. "It's designed for an event that leaves the TCM unable to be occupied."

"Well, I certainly think we are on the verge of that today," Clara said, removing her jacket, putting it across the back of the white seat. "So great, let's do that then."

"One problem," said Trudi as she took her seat.

"Big problem, I'd say," corrected Flack as he straddled the backwards chair.

"Problem?" asked Francis, joining them.

Leon sighed loudly, sitting forward on the table. "It's never been tested. We’ve never even had so much as a fire in here. It was a safety feature put in by the architect should one of the nuclear reactors become unstable, but that was hundreds of years ago."

"Of course it hasn’t," Clara said sarcastically, "because today just cannot get any better."


	48. Chapter 48

Clara put her head in her hands, trying to think of a way out. She wished the Doctor was here as he would have known exactly what to do. She shook herself out of the thought, saying to herself, “there has to be a way to survive. I just need to find it.”

"Have they really shut down the exits to this place?" Francis asked out loud.

"Yes," Trudi nodded, her face glowing bright red as he turned to look at her. "From what we can see, there is chaos at every exit."

"Can people get in?" Kodey asked the obvious question, returning to the table holding Sky as she was beginning to fall asleep. Clara moved her head up.

Leon shook his head, "not on Black Friday, once it clicks to midnight nobody can get in, only out."

"So these exits, can we open them?" Clara asked, folding her arms and leaning forward on the table, sensing this was now a conversation to get involved in. "Surely if we can get some people out that would be better than getting nobody out?"

"We could try to override the system," Flack replied. "However," he looked to his left at the charred remains of the computer, "I don't think the mainframe is working."

"Your friend-" Roo started.

"She's not my friend," Clara dismissed in an almost sing song tone.

"Your girlfriend-“ Roo continued.

“Again, also not my girlfriend,” Clara said, annoyed. “Really not my type-”

“Didn’t you say earlier that you fought some bloke for her-“ Francis interrupted helpfully.

“Shut up,” Clara interrupted back, narrowing her eyes. “Glad to hear your memory is that good,” she snapped sarcastically under her breath as she turned away.

“Your… special friend has certainly has left a trail of destruction, hasn't she?" Roo finished, half smirking, perching on the edge of the stool.

"If it wasn't for her," Clara narrowed her eyes, "we," she indicated Kodey and Francis by lilting her head to the left, "would probably be… be… diced up on the bottom of the warehouse floor like sushi right now, so I'm having a very hard time agreeing with you." She let the silence she had created hang in the air for a few seconds.

"Can't you fix the computer with the sunnies?" Francis asked.

"They're good," Clara sighed, "very good, but resurrecting a burnt out computer from a pile of ash... that would be frankly miraculous." She slipped the sunglasses on, "but I can have a go." She aimed the lenses towards the computer, genuinely expecting nothing to happen, shocked when a large projected screen appeared in the centre of the table.

"Seem pretty good to me," said Kodey, "what technology are they using?"

"Sonic," said Clara quickly, "so Flack, any good for you?"

Flack got up and paced around the table to stand next to Roo. He waved his hands below the screen for a minute before slowly shaking his head. “There’s no way to override the exits,” he sighed loudly, “this is read only now without the base station.”

Clara aimed the sunglasses trying to let them absorb information. She pressed the button on the top and set them on the table, as she had done in the skyscraper mainframe yesterday. The screen scrolled through hundreds of pages of information. She leant back in the chair, looking up at the ceiling, the lights bright in her eyes. Roo got up off the stool and walked off the platform, arms folded, pacing around in the direction of the leather chair on the other side.

Flack turned around, hands on hips, looking to the ceiling and then to the floor. He noticed a jacket lying on the edge of the raised platform and moved to pick it up. “Did she set fire to someone as well?”

“Knowing her, probably yes,” Clara managed a small laugh. “That completely sounds like the sort of thing she would do.”

Flack flopped the jacket onto the table, half obscuring the projected screen as it landed. “Maybe they have left something?”

Clara looked at the jacket, instantly recognising it. “This was, what’s his name’s,” Clara tried to remember what Ashildr had told her, “the Russian man’s, something phonetic...” She clicked her fingers, searching for the name, looking down at the jacket on the table as Flack checked the pockets. “Francis?” she faced towards him, “do you remember?”

“Why are you looking at me?” Francis shrugged.

“Well, you seem to be having no trouble recalling finer details,” Clara said snidely, “of a throwaway comment in a private conversation we had ten hours ago, so this shouldn’t be a problem, should it?”

Francis smirked back at her, knowing she was rattled. “Not a clue, sorry.”

“Funny that,” Clara observed, sarcastically.

“Anyway,” Leon talked over her, “the Russian man?”

”Oh yeah,” Clara said, returning her attention to the more pressing issue, saying dismissively, “he came in after me and Ashildr in the main entrance.”

“He did?” said Leon, surprised.

Flack searched the pockets of the jacket, coming up with nothing. He rubbed his hands to get rid of the black marks left by the blackened material. He took it off the table and threw it onto one of the horizontal scaffolding supports, leaning his weight against the structure, dropping his head down.

“Yeah,” nodded Clara. “We were talking to him in the queue.”

“That is quite a coincidence,” Leon said, a large smile filling his face. “It is also very good news,” he stood up and made his way to a black metal staircase. “Everyone stay here, Captain Oswald, come with me,” he said, before adding, “Trude… I need your magic touch up here,” he said as he walked behind Trudi. She smiled to herself and followed him up the structure.

“Why?” said Clara, curious, hands on hips, watching them walk up for a few seconds before going in that direction. The sonic sunglasses were still scrolling through the information, she left them on the table.

“We may, just may, be able to see who he is,” called out Leon from the floor above. “And how he got in here.”

Clara emerged onto the next landing. Trudi was sat on a chair at a small black desk that was pointing out towards the video screens. Leon was stood behind to her left, leaning on the back of the chair. They were backlit against the light of the scrolling images, both staring at a small computer terminal.

“Right then,” Leon said as she approached, “let’s unblock her hand.” Clara rolled a loose chair from the next desk across to sit on Trudi’s right.  
“Unblock?” said Clara uncertainly, “hang on... is this going to hurt?” she looked up at him, initially holding her hand out but then quickly pulling it away from them

Trudi pulled out a small piece of equipment that was the size and shape of a hairbrush from under the desk and held it in her right hand, smiling slightly.

“We don’t have scanners in here,” Leon explained, “but we can unblock your tag to show it as a string of numbers that we can search.”

“Why would you need to do that?” Clara said, not yet willing to extend her hand through fear of it being painful.

“We had a spate of fake tags a few years back, this was the only way to tell them apart,” said Leon.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Clara repeated, knowing this could only mean ‘yes’, “is it going to hurt?”

“It shouldn’t,” said Trudi, smiling slightly. “Put your hand on here,” she pointed down on to the desk.

Clara cautiously nodded permissively, setting her right hand onto the smooth shiny black surface, she looked them both in the eye, trying to read their expressions on whether they were lying to her. They clearly were.

Trudi turned on the device. It emitted a small beam of harsh neon blue light and a soft buzzing noise. She waved the light over Clara’s hand. She watched as the light moved across her hand, seeing it erase the black tattoo slowly. Clara was initially transfixed until she felt an intense burning sensation covering her hand, she couldn’t feel the heat. She narrowed her eyes at both of the others as she winced in pain. Clara heard a loud sizzling noise and could have sworn the aroma of burning flesh was hanging in the air.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” said Trudi, apologising, “I’m almost done.”

“Just burn off my hand, why don’t you?” Clara said sarcastically. She bit into her left index knuckle against the pain. “Jesus!” She contemplated whether having her hand amputated would have hurt less.

Leon laughed at her. “Would you have done it if we’d told you?”

“Probably not,” she winced quietly.

“There,” said Trudi, “all done.” 

Clara looked down at her hand, bringing it to her chest to try and rub the pain away, observing a much smaller square containing numbers and letters had replaced the tag. She held out her hand, Trudi typed into the keypad without looking as she read the symbols the light had revealed.

“Don’t worry,” Trudi smiled, “it will be back to normal in ten minutes. OK, got it.”

“Does that hurt?” Clara blew out breath onto the back of her hand to try and ease the pain.

“I’m lead to believe it is a little... tingly,” Leon laughed, watching the monitor as Trudi typed frantically. “So you say you saw him at first transmission?”

“Yes,” Clara said, annoyed, extending the fingers of her right hand and then balling them into a fist.

Trudi searched through screens of data, occasionally pointing at the screen. “Bingo!” she exclaimed loudly.

“Got something?” said Leon expectantly.

“Yes,” said Trudi, “found him... and the people he came in with.” 

“Yes!” said Clara excitedly. “This is what we need.”

Eight photos began to appear on the screen. Clara recognised the first four as the grey haired man, the blonde woman, the Russian man and the teenage boy. The fifth man was the man who had infected himself with the purple liquid. The next two pictures along were two men she didn’t recall seeing before, the eighth mugshot was obscured by the angle she was viewing the screen at.

“Good work,” Leon said, putting a reassuring hand on Trudi’s right shoulder. He put his other hand on Clara’s left shoulder, she smiled up at him, distracting her from the monitor momentarily as she moved to see the eighth picture more clearly.

“Thank you,” said Trudi, smiling up at him, blushing. Clara looked back at the screen to see the photos minimised at the top of the screen, the main part replaced with scrolling information. She was unable to make it out against the others.

“Get me all the information you can on this lot,” said Leon. “Bring it to me when you’ve finished. Thanks Trude.”

“Will do,” said Trudi, typing furiously, collating what was clearly a large amount of information.

“Come on, Captain-“ Leon started as he walked away towards the staircase.

“Call me Clara,” she said warmly, putting the chair back at the desk she had taken it from. “Although,” she mused, following him down the steps, “Captain Oswald does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“If you say so,” Leon laughed as he reached the ground floor and a few paces away from the bottom, “it is your name,” he said slowly.

“I wish I could remember what Ashildr said that man’s name was,” Clara said as she stopped two steps from the bottom, tilting her head, holding onto the central support, “the Russian guy, it’s really annoying me.”

“Victor,” said a voice on her left.

“Yes!” Clara said relieved. “Thank you! That’s right! Victor! I knew it was something phonetic, I just couldn’t remember what she said to-“ 

She stopped suddenly realising there was now someone else in the operations centre with them.


	49. Chapter 49

“Hello Barry,” said the grey haired man, stood between her and the vault door. His beige trench coat was undone and his left hand was in the pocket of a brown pinstriped suit. He had a small silver gun in his right hand pointed squarely at her.

“Oh hello,” said Clara, instinctively holding up her hands either side of her face. She noticed the others around the table holding doing the same. Sky was still asleep in Kodey’s arms as he was standing up, his left arm raised. Clara decided this was a fight or flight moment, she thought what the Doctor would do in this situation, knowing the answer. He would talk his way out.

“I must say I am very disappointed in you, Barry,” he said, “we gave you enough opportunities to turn yourself in, you didn’t and your little friend,” he sneered, “unfortunately had to be let go.”

Clara walked very slowly down the remaining two steps stand at the end of the table. “So which one are you then?” Clara asked with more confidence than she was feeling.

“What are you doing?” whispered Leon to her right.

“I beg your pardon?” he narrowed his eyes, retraining the gun.

“I said, which one are you then? Which letter are you?” Clara tilted her head, still holding up her hands. “I know it’s not Victor,” she mused, “you look like Papa to me, am I right?” she pointed and winked at him cheekily.

“You will come with me,” the grey haired man said, the gun still, unimpressed.

Clara looked around her surroundings trying to work out her options. “No?” she paused, shuffling to her left, “OK, what other letters sound like men’s names?” She cursed herself for leaving the shotgun on the floor outside the platform, it would have been useful as a defence.

“I will not ask you again,” the grey haired man stated loudly, “you... will... come with me.”

Clara thought out loud, “Al... Bra... Charlie,” she said slowly, “is it Charlie?” she looked towards the ceiling at a sprinkler head above her, pausing as she thought through the rest of the alphabet, “Mike? Or... Oscar?” She stepped forwards towards him.

“Well,” the man said, “aren’t you... very well informed?”

“Oh yeah,” said Clara smugly, “so don’t leave us all in suspense, which one are you?”

He scratched his chin with his left hand, obviously beginning to get impatient. “Will it shut you up if I tell you?”

“Possibly,” Clara sassed back, smirking.

“Charlie,” he said through gritted teeth. “Now, Barry, you will come with me,” he creased his eyebrows, not faltering the grip on the black handgun.

“Who’s Barry?” asked Clara. “Don’t see any Barrys around here,” she paused before shouting loudly to the ceiling, “Barry? There’s a man here who wants you to go with him... Sorry, I think Barry’s just popped out, or you’ve been had. Do I really look like a Barry? Honestly.”

“Darling, give it up,” Charlie said, aggravated, “we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

“I’m not coming with you, I am not giving you any money and I am certainly not going to be a part of anything that is potentially going to murder eight hundred million people,” Clara paused for breath, “so you can do what you want, but I am staying here.” Clara lowered her arms and folded them in defiance.

“I will shoot you, you know,” Charlie moved three paces towards her, “there is so much more at stake here than you can even imagine.”

“Like what?” Clara said, arms folded. “You’re the Anti-Greed Alliance and you just happen to have turned up in the universe’s biggest shopping centre on their busiest day demanding money off innocent people, forgive me if I’m wrong but it doesn’t take a degree in rocket science to see what you’re-”

“Be quiet!” Charlie shouted tightening his grip on the gun.

“Make me,” Clara tested him, sighing exaggeratedly, “because if you were going to kill me you would have done it already, I mean you came close with those black dots but aside from a chunk of hair missing-”

Charlie discharged the gun at the ceiling silencing her. A few small nuggets of concrete fell down in front of him, followed by a large amount of dust shortly afterwards.

“You will give us the money. Bring the spectacles with you. We have an appointment with your bank manager,” he stated.

“Sorry, what was that? I wasn’t listening,” Clara joked, she had heard the Doctor use this line many times, “I still have ringing in my ears from the gunshot.” She smiled as confidently as she could muster, she had to continue thinking she was going to win.

Trudi appeared to her left, standing three or four stairs up. “I heard a guns-” she stopped, putting her hands up, immediately realising what was happening. “Oh,” she cowered.

Charlie narrowed his eyes impatiently, “I can make you.”

“Oh yeah?” Clara asked loudly, “You and what army?” She had heard that in a film once and had always wanted to say it. She looked playfully around with her arms folded.

There were footsteps behind her on the platform, a loud metallic clicking followed by a pressure of something hard placed on the back of her head.

“This army,” said a female voice behind her.

Clara swallowed heavily, holding her arms up, knowing there was no way to escape now. “Of course,” Clara sighed. “I should have known.”

“Roo?” said Leon quietly behind her. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” Roo snapped back sarcastically holding the shotgun flush against the back of Clara’s head.

“Please don’t tell me you’re... I’ve known you for ten years... no...” Leon faltered. “How could you do this to me? Ten years, Roo!” he pleaded angrily. “I interviewed you, I got you this job!” he cried out.

“Ten years looking at scrolling numbers Leon,” Roo said, “watching people spend money to their hearts content when I take home a pittance. I’m sick of it.”

“What, so you decide to join the AGA?” Flack added. “Way to go Roo, well done,” he breathed.

“I always knew there was something off about her,” Trudi said quietly.

“Shut up, Trudi,” Roo snapped.

“After all I’ve done for you,” Leon tried to reason with her, “this is how you repay me.” He sounded like he was about to cry.

“So what are you people, thirty second century Robin Hoods or what?” Clara asked them both. “What are you going to do with all the money? Give it to the poor?” she said sarcastically, laughing. “All the poor people are probably in here buying things at half the price they were twelve hours ago!” Clara kept her hands up.

“Robin Hood?” Charlie laughed. “Is that what you think this is, darling? You cannot compare what we are doing to some fairytale.”

“No, I’m sure I can’t and believe me, you will never live up to the real thing,” Clara said. “I met him you know, he gave me an archery lesson and I was almost Maid Marion until a friend of mine tracked her down.” She reeled off the information to distract her from what was happening.

“What are you talking about?” snapped Roo, moving around to the front of Clara, holding the barrel of the shotgun against her ribs. “You were almost... Maid Marion? Please, don’t make me laugh.”

“Oh yeah, I suppose that if you are going to kill me I probably should mention that me and the woman you released out of the airlock are also able to travel in time,” Clara said.

“What-” said Kodey behind her.

“What-” said Francis at the same time.

“You can,” Roo laughed immediately, repositioning the gun, “travel in time. I have never heard anything so ridiculous in my life!”

“Really?” Leon reacted a moment after.

“No way!” said Flack.

“How has this not come up in the last eight hours?” asked Francis.

“So,” Roo tried to control her laughter, “why don’t you just time travel yourself away... Captain Oswald?”

Clara had dealt with enough unruly children at school to effortlessly deflect any back chat. “It doesn’t quite work like that,” she said loudly, “but then I guess you’ll never find out.”

“So tell me then,” Charlie said patronisingly, “if you’re from the future, what happens?”

“I’m actually from the past,” Clara corrected him loudly, “I was last in London, in November 2015. As for what happens,” she decided to lie, thinking if she was going to have any chance of them helping her it was probably best not to say she knew what happened, “I don’t know, I haven’t seen the future. Needless to say, if you keep me alive I could be very useful.”

“Your friend said that too,” smirked Charlie, “and look what happened to her, we let her out of an airlock, what makes you think we won’t do the same to you?”

“Nothing,” Clara acknowledged, she couldn’t see a way out but was not going to go down without a fight. She held up her hands, pausing. “But,” she pointed at the ceiling with her right index finger, “if you shoot me, you get no money, no sunglasses, well, you’ll get them but they’ll be effectively useless because they only work when I use them-”

Charlie shot his gun up to the ceiling again to get her attention, a few larger rocks of concrete fell behind him, out of view. “Please stop with all of the theatrics,” he shouted, “we are wasting time. You are coming with me right now.” A collection of dust floated down, accompanied by a long unsettling creaking noise, a loud snap and large amount of debris falling from above. Charlie indicated her with the gun, brushing dust off his jacket with his left hand, “we are leaving.”

Roo stepped down from the platform to the floor, holding the shotgun at arm’s length, directing Clara forward. “Let’s go, Captain.” She wiped dust from her eyes with her left hand, taking five or six steps backward as she did.

Clara walked down off the platform resigned, still holding up her hands, looking at the ceiling, freezing when she realised a plume of light was streaming in and something bad was about to happen. “Everyone! Get down! Now!” she shouted loudly at the rest of the group as she quickly threw herself onto the floor of the platform, covering her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So everyone! Hope you're enjoying this whole tangled web of intrigue going on.
> 
> Any theories/comments? 
> 
> Like, for example, who is that guard? Who was the eighth picture on the computer screen? And what were those mysterious statues that Clara saw in the room where they found Sky? How did the code for the operations centre end up on the back of Ashildr's skin graft?
> 
> And now that Ashildr is floating in outer space never to be seen again (sorry guys!) how is Clara going to get the TARDIS back? 
> 
> All this, and much, much more, coming up ;-)


	50. Chapter 50

Clara heard the shotgun go off once in her direction as the entire ceiling of the operations centre collapsed, showering her in a haze of dust and rubble as she managed just get herself onto the platform in time. She left it thirty seconds before even attempting moving.

Her vision was blurry initially. It eventually began to focus through the dust. There were large pieces of concrete and twisted metal everywhere she looked, flattened office chairs and computers strewn in between. A pale hand holding the shotgun was visible six feet in front of her, poking out from under a large steel ceiling support. Clara could now hear alarms ringing and the beeping of unhappy machines. She could see two small fires in her field of vision, presumably computers or equipment that had overheated.

She sat up, trying to resist rubbing the dust out of her eyes with her dirty hands. A heavy slab of concrete was resting on her left leg, she was only now just able to feel its weight crushing her leg onto the edge of the platform. She pushed it off with some difficulty, groaning but then noticing with relief that her leg wasn’t broken. Her right hand had intense pins and needles, she looked at it to see the barcode had returned.

“Is everyone OK?” Clara shouted out, swimming in her own thoughts, fighting the severe pain. She hauled herself to her knees, turning back towards the table to look around at the group. The video screens around the perimeter had mainly turned off, except for the occasional intermittent flash where a feed glitched. She shook out her right hand to try and subside the numb feeling.

There were shouts of acknowledgement around her. The ceiling above the platform was now at an almost forty five degree angle, much lower on her side. 

Trudi was getting to her feet to her right, unhooking her leg from the twisted deformed banister of the stairs. She stood up, holding her head, inspecting her fingers afterwards as they were covered in blood coming from her right forehead.

“Trudi, you ok?” Clara asked, forcing herself to stand up, wincing in pain. The ceiling was two feet above her head on this side.

Trudi nodded in response. “Fine,” she paused, touching her head again, “I think.”

Kodey and Sky were emerging from beneath the undamaged table on the other side, both apparently unharmed. Sky was crying loudly, rubbing her eyes. Leon was lying on top of Flack to her left, yet to stand up. Francis had got to his feet, he was removing dust from his torn jacket. He caught her looking and flashed a wide smile back in her direction.

“Leon?” Clara asked, grimacing loudly as she put weight on her left leg to find the pain almost unbearable. She gingerly hopped towards them, holding on to a still intact metal support on her left. “Leon?” she repeated.

Leon rolled off Flack and got to his knees with some difficulty. “Flack,” he said, pushing him on the shoulder roughly, “wake up.”

Flack laid motionless on the floor, not making any noise.

“Flack?” Leon leant over him, instantly standing up and backing away a few paces. He felt down his black jumpsuit, noticing a large wet patch on the stomach, patting it down. He pulled his hand away and realised that it was covered in a thick red liquid. "Flack!" he repeated, kneeling down next to him, shaking his shoulders.

Clara was able to see a small pool of the same liquid slowly seeping out around his stomach onto the floor. There was a collection of small holes on his chest, and now she looked closer, his neck was positioned at a strange angle, his face white. She was unable to move, frozen to the spot.

"No, no, no... No!" shouted Leon, banging on Flack's chest. He put his left hand on Flack's right cheek, trying to wake him up. "Come on, wake up!" he shouted. Trudi moved from Clara's right to crouch down on Leon's left, putting her right arm around his shoulders.

Kodey and Francis stood on the other side of the platform with their mouths open. Francis found a nearby chair that had been upended, he set it on the floor and sat on it, head in his hands. Sky had broken free from Kodey's grip and had begun running towards Clara, impacting painfully heavily with her legs, hiding behind them.

"Wake up," Leon said quietly, resigned to what had happened. “Please…” he begged, “wake up.”

"Leon," Trudi said softly, holding him tightly, "Leon, come here, he's gone Leon."

"No!" Leon shouted loudly.

Clara moved towards Flack's head. "Sky," Clara said as gently as she could, her whole body shaking with shock, "go back with Kodey for a minute, something has happened to one of our friends that is not very nice, and I don't want you to be frightened, do you understand?"

Sky nodded, skipping back off in Kodey's direction.

Clara knelt down, scraping her cut knee on the floor, touching Flack's impossibly pale neck with her right index and middle finger, feeling for a pulse. She felt nothing, repositioning her hand several times to make sure she had the right place, knowing it was a lost cause. She took her hand away and lowered her head, shaking it to herself. She put her left hand on Leon's right shoulder as Trudi embraced him in a tight hug.

"Leon," Trudi said, "I'm so sorry."

"I've known him since he was eight years old," he began sobbing into Trudi's shoulder.

"I know, I know," Trudi said, cradling Leon's head in her hands.

Clara stood up with some difficulty, trying not to grimace, to leave them alone. She limped to the edge of the platform where her leg had been crushed, sitting down a few steps from the bottom of the spiral staircase. Francis caught her eye, raising his eyebrows, she shook her head silently back at him. 

She had seen many people die whilst on travels with the Doctor, she had even lost a few people when the TARDIS had shrunk in Bristol, but this was the first person who she'd lost being on her own. She looked out at Roo's hand amongst the rubble, still clenching the shotgun. Further away she saw Charlie's leg mixed in with a pile of broken up concrete. She was finding it hard to feel any remorse for the other two, both willing to commit mass murder in order for personal gain.

Leon continued sobbing to her right, not moving. Clara rested her elbows on her knees and cradled her head, feeling a small tear trickle down from her right eye as she thought about Flack lying there motionless, his life extinguished in an instant.


	51. Chapter 51

Clara wiped the tear with her right forearm as it trickled down her face. She raised her head looking out to the scene around her. A large beam of light was filtering down from the ceiling, illuminated by the shower of fine dust that still hung in the air. Clara stood up, curious to where the light was coming from, walking unsteadily on her now throbbing left leg. She stepped onto the large slab of concrete she had moved off, tiptoeing onto the next available block.

“What are you doing, Clara?” said Francis from the other side of the table. “It’s not safe, the ceiling could collapse on you.”

“I’m fine,” she called back, within reaching distance of where Roo had been crushed. She knelt down slowly, prising the shotgun out from a gap between three pieces of concrete after a few minutes. “We cannot afford to lose this weapon, can we?” She eventually wrestled it out and held it in her left hand by the barrel.

“That thing has just killed Flack,” snapped Trudi, still pressed against Leon, “if you didn’t have that he would still be alive,” she said, struggling to keep her tears back.

Clara was about to answer when she heard a faint wet groaning gurgling noise above her. She aimed her eyes at the hole in the ceiling, now directly under the beam of light. She squinted as she swung the shotgun over her right shoulder, holding her right hand in front of her forehead to shield her eyes from the light. As her eyes focussed she made out something backlit in her view, but couldn’t distinguish what it was. The noise sounded again, louder this time.

“Umm,” Clara said loudly, not looking away, trying to catch someone’s attention as something else appeared against the light, “this might seem a completely irrelevant question in the general scheme of things right now,” she continued, “but what’s above us?”

“A man has just died,” shouted Trudi, “has that registered? A man has died and you’re asking about the layout of the building? For god’s sake!”

“I completely totally understand that,” Clara said empathetically, “it’s just I have a really bad feeling-”

Clara was interrupted by a large heavy mass falling to the ground six feet to her right. It was a human figure that landed like a cat on a triangular slab of concrete. The man stood up straight, cracking his neck in the process, he was wearing a brown overcoat and bright blue trousers. His skin was mottled purple, his eyes snapped towards Clara quickly. He inhaled in a loud wet sucking noise that sent a shiver down Clara’s spine. 

She let out a small scream. “Doctor!” she started instinctively, used to turning to him in situations like this. She retreated away from the man, falling onto her back as she lost her footing moving towards the platform. She heard a large commotion and shots and screams of various timbres behind her.

“Oh my god,” shouted Trudi, standing up instantly. “Where did that come from?!”

Clara shuffled backwards across the jagged concrete, scraping the shotgun loudly. “Get back, he’s infected!” she called out, sensing pain over her body.

The man crouched down and picked up a large stone as if it were feather light, throwing it easily over and behind his head. He repeated the motion with several larger slabs until Roo’s squashed body was exposed from the rubble.

“What’s it doing?” said Leon loudly.

“I don’t know,” said Clara, eventually reaching the platform. She felt someone haul her to her feet, realising Leon and Trudi were helping her up. “But I really do not want to find out.” She joined the others in edging back towards the rear of the space.

The man crouched down, as if to whisper in Roo’s ear. He then stood up and moved in the direction of where she had seen Charlie’s lifeless frame, repeating his actions of removing the rubble around the dead body.

“Are they biting each other?” said Trudi with an unexpected air of curiosity, “is that how the infection is spreading?”

“Well,” said Clara turning to face the others, trying to maintain the pretence of being confident, “at least we know this contagion, whatever it is, isn’t airborne as they’d probably be up and about by now… that is a relief,” she sighed, smiling to herself.

At the exact same moment as Clara uttered the words, Roo, Charlie and Flack all slowly sat upright and made low groaning sounds as their upper bodies became vertical.

“Seriously?” said Clara, reacting, folding her arms and nodding. “Of course,” she said sarcastically, “well that’s just brilliant.”

Clara heard Sky crying in the background as Kodey scooped her up into his hands.

Another body dropped from the ceiling as Flack raised himself three feet to Clara’s right. Roo and Charlie did the same, making ominous snapping sounds from bones and muscles as they aligned themselves vertically.

“Everybody back!” shouted Leon, fighting with Trudi and Clara to get away from the vicinity of the now reanimated body of Flack. She could see the purple mottling beginning to appear on his skin.

“So this is just great,” said Clara under her breath. “A zombie army… an increasing getting closer zombie army in an enclosed space, just what we needed. Good-o!”

The other four infected figures including Charlie and Roo had reached the beginning of the platform, all making various wet gurgling noises as if they were communicating with each other. Two more infected creatures fell from the ceiling behind the first pack.

“Has anybody got any ideas?” Clara asked the group turning around briefly, “if any of you are aware of any secret trapdoors, hidden passages, teleports, dimensional shift-bombs or… I don’t know… anti-zombie weapons can I suggest you speak up now!”

“You’ve got a gun!” said Kodey, sounding panicked.

“Good point,” said Clara, acknowledging that she had momentarily forgotten she was carrying a shotgun. She took the gun off her shoulder and aimed it at the figure of Roo who was closest to her. 

Roo held her mottled purple arm in Clara’s direction, scraping her feet on the floor as she progressed quickly forward with Charlie in hot pursuit. 

Clara quickly put her right index finger on the trigger, hesitating slightly as, although she had fired weapons before, this felt different. She squeezed the mechanism quickly, finding it softly press back, not firing, secretly half glad it didn’t make the loud noise she was expecting.

“It’s not working,” Clara shouted.

“Try reloading,” said Kodey loudly, close behind on her left, almost drowned out by Sky’s crying.

Clara pumped the barrel once and a red and gold cartridge fell out past her hand, clattering metallically on the platform below several times until it stopped still out of view under the table. She wanted to fire the gun again, but in the heat of the moment found she couldn’t bring herself to actually do it with the intention of killing someone. “No,” she said, lowering her head, remembering how Kodey had been earlier, “these people, they are alive,” she said loudly, “there has to be another way.” She immediately felt weak as a leader, hanging her head. A large number of thuds sounded from the ground below the hole in the ceiling.

“Oh come here,” said Trudi appearing to her right, snatching the gun off her, “I will gladly shoot her for what she has done.”

“Has anybody else got any other ideas?” Clara said, edging backwards behind Trudi, “Leon! Is there an emergency exit in here or something?”

Trudi retrained the gun at Roo’s chest, pumping the barrel and squeezing the trigger, again to nothing happening. “It’s empty,” she said, resigned, “the only weapon we have is empty.” She moved backwards to draw level with Clara, passing her back the gun as she cowered back behind.

“Leon, Trudi,” Clara said impatiently loudly, “you two work here for god’s sake!” She held the barrel of the gun and wielded the stock like a baseball bat. Roo and Flack were now six feet in front of them, their hands grasping at a height that could only be viable to throttle someone. “How the hell are we going to get out of here?”

“There’s only group transmission,” Leon shouted, “which is through the door you came in.”

“Really?” Clara said, refusing to believe that was the only way out, now seeing at least thirty infected bodies standing between her and the door. She almost fell backwards off the platform, just about managing to keep her balance on her still painful left leg as it hit the floor.

Several figures were appearing to Clara’s right, between the platform and the shot control box, and her left. More continued to fall from the ceiling out of her view, the dull thuds increasing in their frequency. She noticed her jacket lying on the floor underneath the table, groaning to herself as it was firmly out of reach behind a pack of the infected. It had the TARDIS key, psychic paper and the skin graft. She reached for the sonic sunglasses on her head, finding them missing, realising she had left them on the table earlier.

Clara risked a look backwards to take stock of the group, noticing Kodey was holding Sky, back against the curved video screen wall, an image of a corridor flickering intermittently behind him. Francis and Leon were a few feet to his right, Trudi was edging back to slot in the gap between the others. They were surrounded on all sides by shambling, gargling, infected mottled purple figures. She walked backwards to stand in front of the others, mentally preparing herself for a large fight as Roo, Flack and Charlie stepped down off the platform, hands grasping ominously in her direction.


	52. Chapter 52

”So,” Clara said, thinking out loud, “surrounded on all sides by zombies, no working weapons, no sunglasses, the only way out a door that is presumably now buried under a large pile of concrete.”

“What are we going to do?” Francis asked.

“We are all going to die!” said Kodey, panicked, trying to calm Sky, crying loudly.

“Kodey,” she snapped, “please shut up, we are not all going to die,” she said as confidently as she could, “we have to believe we are going to get out.”

“That seems very unlikely,” offered Trudi, directly behind her.

“OK,” Clara conceded, keeping her eyes trained on the approaching figures, “I will admit, that is a very good point, but,” she paused, “I am going to think of something, admittedly it probably will not be until the very last minute but we just need to believe for a little bit.” She needed to do something to give herself time to think. “We need to try and keep this lot at bay,” she thought of something, “Kodey, still got the crowbar?”

“Yes,” he replied shakily. A collect loud gargle sounded around the room.

“Good news,” she smiled. “OK, I don’t know about everybody else but I’m not prepared to go down without a fight… so who’s ready for a fun game called ‘let’s all fight off the oncoming zombies’? Francis?”

“You betcha,” Francis said, moving forward to join her.

“Leon?” Clara called out to her right.

“If that’s what it has come to,” Leon said, “yes.”

“Trudi?” Clara asked.

“Yes,” Trudi said nervously.

“Great,” Clara said half sarcastically. “My taekwondo training is being completely wasted here, isn’t it? Someone take the crowbar.” The creatures had slowed slightly, now all six feet from them in every direction.

Leon had picked up a three foot twisted metal bar from the floor and was holding it on front of him like a sword, Kodey held out the crowbar, Trudi took it from him quietly.

“Here,” Clara said to Francis on her right, “take this, she gave him the gun. I need time to think of something clever.”

Francis snatched the gun, copying her earlier stance, holding it as if about to bat in a baseball match. “I’m well up for a barney,” he flashed a perfect smile at her. She slipped back behind him, Trudi to her left, Leon to her right.

“OK,” Clara thought out loud, as Leon pushed an infected away by poking them in the chest. “So zombies, can’t be killed unless you shoot them in the head,” she mused, “not sure if that is established fact or whether I’ve picked that up from Dawn of the Dead, might have been Shaun... or... what’s that other film?” she clicked her fingers as she thought, “the one in London, where it’s completely empty?” 

“Are you just going to talk?” said Trudi, annoyed, two infected figures edging in her direction.

“This is kind of what I do,” she said her right index finger to her lips, “shut up, everyone, concentrate on keeping the killer zombie monster thingys away,” she spun around on the spot.

“How did you get away from the last time?” Kodey asked, trying to rock Sky to comfort her.

“You know that,” she dismissed with a wave of her a hand, “we climbed through that grill and into that-” she stopped suddenly, holding her right hand up, “hang on. Hang on a minute. The last time,” she emphasised the next word, “I was stuck with them they came up to me very, very close but didn’t kill me. Why?”

“Didn’t you run away?” Kodey replied to her as Francis swung the gun out in front of him.”

“No I didn’t,” Clara answered, hands on her hips, “I mean, well, yes, I did eventually,” she tilted her head, “but when it was just me, they left me alone,” she looked out at the pack of infected surrounding them. “People that are dead get infected because it’s airborne-” she said, thinking out loud.

“Is this really necessary Captain?” said Leon, “can’t you just do something, use those sunglasses!”

“You mean the ones that are conveniently not on me?” Clara retorted as she felt on her collar, acutely aware of being hemmed in by bodies. “Yes, I’ll just get them.”

“Oh,” said Leon, prodding the metal bar outwards.

“Yes… oh,” Clara answered. “So dead people get infected, living people don’t, but these guys seem to be trying to make people dead to infect them. Makes sense. So why didn’t they attack me?”

“I’m sure I heard you say you were dead?” Francis said, mid swing of the shotgun. “Or something? Perpetually dead, wasn’t it?” Roo, Charlie and Flack were forced backwards towards the group behind.

“You look pretty alive to me,” Trudi reflected, shoving the crowbar hard into Roo’s chest, forcing her away, “perpetually dead… really?” 

Roo’s jumpsuit had torn open at the impact, leaving a white inner lining visible on the left side of her chest as the material flopped down and a black t-shirt underneath. There was something tucked in the collar.

“Sort of,” Clara said, “I was extracted from the second before my death, not technically dead or,” she paused, saying slowly, “alive, so,” a smile crossed her lips as she looked out towards the pack of infected, “I wonder…”

“You wonder what?” Leon said loudly, risking a glance around, “what are you doing?” He snapped his eyes back to hit an approaching figure around the head. Another one was reaching out for his neck, now a handful of feet away.

Clara stopped breathing, swallowing back the lump in her throat and stepped nervously between Trudi and Francis out of the protected area, noticing the infected not batting an eyelid. She was able to deftly weave between Roo on her right and a tall man in a brown overcoat on her left.

“No!” said Trudi from behind her, “how are you doing that?”

She shrugged backwards, smiling. Clara was able to edge around the various figures, back towards the platform, quickly grabbing her jacket from under the table with her left hand and throwing it on, grateful to have most of her things back. She searched around for the sunglasses, unable to see them anywhere. Several more figures fell from the ceiling in front of her, a few more shuffled past towards the others. She continued to not breathe, slipping slowly around them. An unexpected loud wet gargle emitted from a figure wearing a white suit next to her, causing her to gasp and jump an inch off the floor.

“Clara,” shouted Francis loudly, “I’m not sure how long I can hold these guys off for.”

She looked back at Francis, mentally calculating there must be at least thirty or forty infected creatures surrounding them. Clara went to move slowly towards the door where they had entered the room, watching her footing on the uneven floor, realising quickly this was not a feasible way out as it was only half visible through the rubble and had six or seven table sized slabs of concrete in the way.

“Hurry up!” shouted Leon, barely audible over the collection of people around him.

Clara darted her eyes around, looking for the sunglasses to no avail. She wasn’t aware of a setting that would make them visible to her. She felt in her pockets, trying to come up with something. Her hands found the psychic paper, wondering if it would help her locate the missing sunglasses, she opened it on a whim, fully expecting the red edged leather encased paper to be blank. To her surprise the paper had something written on it. ‘MAKE SOME NOISE’ it announced.

Clara was momentarily confused. “Where do you think I am,” she directed at the wallet, “Glastonbury?”

“Captain!” screamed Trudi. “We can’t hold them off! Do something!”

Clara looked around her for an object she could use to make a lot of noise, knowing she had to do something to help the others and distract the creatures. She put the paper back in her pocket as she moved to pick up a small twisted metal pole. She hit it loudly against the black scaffolding supports of the structure the opposite side of the platform from the others.

“Hey!” she shouted loudly, unable to stop a small smile passing her lips. “Hey Zombies! Umm… Zombie monsters from... about eight hours ago! Come and get me!” Clara watched as all of the surrounding figures turned to face in her direction. She continued clanging the metal loudly, attracting many of them towards her. “Look at me being all noisy over here,” she shouted, as within a few seconds she had six or seven creatures within six feet. She immediately ran as quickly as the uneven concrete floor would allow to the other side of the room, “isn’t it interesting!” she shouted as repeatedly hit another structural support. “So yes,” she said a little less confidently, “please ignore all my friends over there and come and investigate this intriguing loud noise instead!” 

She was beginning to be hemmed in by bodies again, deftly skipping away towards the black chair where Ashildr had been, many purple hands grasping in her direction now.


	53. Chapter 53

“Can anybody see the sunglasses?” Clara shouted back at the group as she found something else to hit the metal pole on to, settling on the bar behind the chair. She looked over at the others, noticing the majority of the pack of infected had turned away from them and were now shuffling ominously in her own direction. The growling gurgling noises were getting unsettlingly close, louder and more frequent.

“Roo!” shouted Trudi loudly. “She’s got them-” she stopped suddenly, realising that she was attracting creatures back towards them, “on her neck!”

“Don’t talk, let me distract this lot… can you get them?” Clara said loudly, preparing to relocate back to where she had found the metal, holding her breath to slip through an unexpected gap in the crowd, just managing to avoid a small child whose clothes had been set alight after falling from the ceiling directly onto one of the small fires.

“Yes!” shouted Trudi.

Clara reached an empty area and began striking the metal scaffolding again, this time so hard it created a single spark. “Brilliant!” she said loudly, visually trying to work out a way back to the group. She could see at least fifty hands extended in her direction now and she couldn’t head back towards the others without putting them in serious danger. “I…” she thought out loud, saying quietly to herself, “really need to get a sonic device that I can attach to myself.”

She made her way carefully to the crushed spiral staircase, the only area she could move to from where she was, climbing the steps. She hit the metal bar again on the bannister resoundingly as she progressed up, hoping to draw a few of the creatures along.

The floor of the upper level was slanted to her left, noticeably higher on the side nearest the group. All of the computer equipment and the desks had displaced themselves due to the angle, leaving a small gap in the guide rails which she could get to on the other side. She threw the metal bar to her left to concentrate on climbing up. Her boots had just enough traction to support her weight on the almost forty five degree angle of the floor, she stepped to the edge to look down at the others.

Kodey was still cradling Sky in his arms against the video wall. Francis, Trudi and Leon were all fending off a few figures each, nowhere near as many as there had been earlier and nothing compared to the number that were now focussed on chasing her.

Clara supported herself by hooking her elbows around the barrier and hung over the side, looking down at them.

“Can you get them up to me?” shouted Clara, not looking around to see how many of the infected had followed her. She held onto the scaffolding support with her right hand.

Trudi swung the crowbar around her once before pausing to retrieve the glasses out of the collar of her own jumpsuit. She quickly aimed them in Clara’s direction, throwing them underhand.

Clara saw the sunglasses approaching to the left of her chest, just about managing to catch them between the fingers of her free left hand after they ricocheted off her forearm. She snatched them towards her body, breathing out a loud sigh of relief.

“Yes,” said Clara quietly, allowing herself a small smile. She put the sunglasses on, seeing if they would provide a solution for the current predicament. Her entire surroundings turned light blue. The left lens flashed black intermittently, the view also obscured by a jagged diagonal scratch across the centre. She turned around to survey the situation, noticing a handful of completely blue figures shifting slowly in her direction, a few had struggled with the gradient, slipping off the lower edge. 

The sunglasses zoomed in on something directly in front of her, a few white lines in the right lens showing up. She searched for what they were indicating, narrowing it down to a small circular object located on the wall nearest the vault door only just visible over the mountain of displaced computer equipment. Two infected figures were now within six feet of her, just about managing to keep their balance as they shuffled closer. The man on the right growled wetly as he extended his left hand in the vague direction of her torso.

“What are you then?” said Clara quietly to herself as she depressed the button above the right lens, not sure how a small circular box attached to a wall was possibly going to remedy the situation.

A loud snap engulfed the space, similar to the noise a Christmas cracker made when pulled. Clara felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up before the noise hit her. It was a siren so piercing and high pitched that she felt immediately unwell, dropping to the ground to cover her ears. After a few seconds her body recovered from the initial shock and she was able to raise her head to see what was happening.

The two infected figures had turned around and were shambling slowly back towards the stairs, clearly attracted by something else. Those that had become entangled in the displaced computer equipment were trying to wrestle themselves free, several deciding to let themselves drop casually to the ground level. She looked down to Kodey and Francis, noticing they had also assumed a similar position to hers on the floor, cradling their heads.

Clara heaved herself to her feet, trying desperately to keep her ears covered and edged her way down the gradient to understand what she had done. The crowd were being drawn in the direction of the small circular box, which, upon closer inspection, was easily identifiable as a fire alarm siren. The nearest people were pawing at the box, trying to find the source of the noise. Clara guessed there could easily have been fifty of the infected in its vicinity, several were on fire, their clothes set alight.

Clara became aware of a small red arrow flashing in the top of the right lens, indicating behind her. She spun around, following its direction as it indicated the video wall, she began walking quickly to the higher side. The others were in various stages of getting up, beginning to gaze at her with their ears covered. She quickly pressed the button between the bridge of her nose, unsure of what exactly the sunglasses were wanting her to do.

A large green rectangle appeared on the screen behind Kodey and Sky. It melted away after a few seconds, providing an access route to a previously hidden corridor. A harsh white light backlit them, casting long shadows across the floor.

The intense alarm stopped suddenly, leaving a high pitched ringing in Clara’s ears. She shook her head to settle her balance, cautiously removing her hands, putting the sunglasses into the collar of her dress to remove the blue hue off the surroundings.

“Run!” shouted Clara from the balcony level down to the rest of the group, pointing at the exit.

Kodey and Sky disappeared through the space first, Leon ushered Trudi and then Francis through the doorway after.

“Captain!” Leon shouted, looking towards her from the ground.

“Go!” Clara said loudly, waving him off, “I’ll catch you up!”

Leon nodded and disappeared, leaving just the clinical light shining out.

Clara turned around, leaning back against the supports, preparing to make a run towards the staircase when a large creaking noise sounded above her, followed by a loud snap. Clara looked around and saw one of the structural supports at the other end buckle and break in front of her eyes. The ceiling began to shift ominously, stopping her from moving.

She spun on her heel quickly, trying to figure out a way down that didn’t involve her being flattened to death under a collapsing structure. She peered over the barrier, estimating she was fifteen feet from the ground. It was too far to jump down without sustaining serious injury, but possible she could climb down one of the intact supports.

The structure began to lurch downwards, forcing her to make a decision to move.

Clara jumped up and swung her right leg over the waist high barrier, putting her foot on the edge of the flooring as she brought her other leg around. The closest structural support was on her right, she crept along on her tiptoes, losing the grip on her left foot a few times as she misjudged her step in the haste to get away.

She got her right hand and right foot onto the criss-crossed metal, ascending as quickly as possible to the ground, sensing large resounding vibrations and ominous noises all around her.

The support she was climbing began to contort and twist as she approached being six feet off the ground. She risked a few more rungs and then heard a large bang, deciding to throw herself backwards off onto the floor below seconds before the metal support snapped and the entire structure fell away, crushing a large number of the infected on the raised platform, unhelpfully displacing many more that had managed to shuffle out of the way in her direction. 

A large amount of dust and debris was created, clogging up her mouth and lungs. She coughed loudly, almost suffocating in the cloud of particles, brushing off some small pieces of debris off her clothes as she quickly stood up. Her back was sore and bruised from the fall, she rubbed her right shoulder roughly as it had caught the majority of the impact.

Clara exhaled heavily, straightening out her jacket, trailing a hand through her hair to push it out of her face. She began to run towards the door in the video wall, only to find herself held back by a heavy pressure behind her shoulders. Clara tried to struggle free, unable to get away, the grip tightening further the more she continued. She wrestled herself out of her dusty black leather jacket and spun around to see Charlie with his hand outstretched towards her.

Charlie’s face was mottled purple, clothes covered in dust, his mouth was hanging open at an angle and his eyes held a vacant stare as he dropped her jacket casually on the floor and aimed his raised left hand directly towards her neck. After a second he was six inches from her neck as he vocalised a loud wet guttural gargle which caused every one of the infected in Clara’s eye line to turn and face them.

“Great,” said Clara sarcastically under her breath. She knew this would be the point the Doctor would normally swoop in and save her, and she secretly half hoped any time now he would grab her hand and wrench her free of the encircling group of zombies. She shuffled backwards slowly, trying to avoid being throttled.

Charlie clasped his fingers as his bright purple hand got within an inch of Clara’s neck, grazing her skin a couple of times. She gulped loudly, raising her chin up, biting her lips together, edging out of the way until she hit the video wall behind her with a loud thump.

“Baa-” Charlie groaned in front of her as his hands were millimetres from the skin on Clara’s neck, “-reee.” He exhaled noisily, pausing for a moment to plant his shuffling feet on the floor to steady himself.

Clara used the time to put her right hand around Charlie’s left wrist over his coat, expertly twisting it down and around to throw Charlie around to face away from her, his hand pressed firmly into the small of his back. He growled wetly, inches in front of her face.

“Yeah, I know,” Clara replied, as if answering him, allowing herself a small smile, “didn’t expect that did you?” She grasped the back of the right upper sleeve of his coat to stop his arm thrashing around. 

Another of the infected was approaching quickly in front of Charlie, dressed in a bright green boiler suit, a petite woman with blonde hair reached for his chest. Charlie shouted harshly.

“Glad you asked,” Clara said brightly, “blue belt, taekwondo. Go on, go on, be impressed.”

The woman in the boiler suit grabbed the front of Charlie’s suit and without warning hauled him up fifty feet towards the ceiling over the ruined internal structure, arms flailing wildly. He landed with a loud thump a few seconds later well out of Clara’s sight.

Clara was left holding his beige trench coat with both hands, her mouth open in shock at how much power such a diminutive person could channel. She looked down at the coat quickly and then back at the woman in front in surprise, noticing as an aside that Charlie’s jacket was a lot heavier than she would have expected.

“Really?” Clara said blankly, realising the woman’s hands were reaching perilously close to her now that Charlie had been so effortlessly disposed of. “OK, well that’s just showing off, isn’t it?” She wasn’t willing to find out whether she could be so casually hauled to the other side of the room.

Clara held her breath, turning her head, closing her eyes as several more infected began to surround her, all reaching out various hands and fingers, trailing legs and shuffling at a steady pace. She held the coat in front of her as if it were a blanket, hiding badly behind it. She concluded if she had a pulse, it would be racing by now.

Loud growls in various timbres closely surrounded her, scraping noises across the floor aimed in her direction made her very unsettled. She pulled her hands in close to her chest, mentally preparing herself to be thrown up into the air roughly.

Clara accidentally hit the bridge of the sonic sunglasses as she made herself smaller, emitting a soft whirring in response. She hoped the noise had not been loud enough to catch the attention of those around her as she could hear loud gargling exhalations in every direction.

The hairs on the back of Clara’s neck stood up for a millisecond before the piercing loud siren returned. She resisted the temptation to put her hands immediately up to her ears as they began to ring incessantly, instead, cautiously opening her left eye. There was at least four feet of clear space around her as the crowd had returned to their pursuit of the noise.

Clara grasped Charlie’s jacket in her left hand, about to run to her left towards the opening in the video wall when she remembered her own jacket, noticing it lying limply on the floor, being pushed around by shuffling feet. She balled her fists and held them up to her ears against the alarm, stooping to retrieve her jacket. It caught in the feet of a small child, who fell forward flatly to the ground a few paces away, squirming to regain his upward stance.

She held Charlie’s coat in between her knees as she swung her leather jacket over her shoulders to put it on, quickly zipping it and the two pockets up to secure the items. She brushed off some dust, picked at her hair for a moment to get it out of the collar and retrieved the trench coat to sling it over her left shoulder.

“28 Days Later,” she said, nodding. “Of course… that was it! How did I forget that?” 

Clara allowed herself a proud smile before ducking and running off quickly in the direction of the others.


	54. Chapter 54

After a two hundred metre sprint, Clara looked backwards for a moment and then felt herself being hauled forward through a small black door by several pairs of strong hands, immediately crashing right side down to the black tiled floor as her forward momentum didn’t match the support of her legs.

“Captain!” shouted Leon as he and Francis secured a small black door with a glass porthole. It affixed with a small hiss as they closed the handle, blocking out the ringing of the unnecessarily loud alarm.

Clara didn’t make any attempt to stand, instead rolling onto her back, dropping Charlie’s coat out of her left hand to exhale heavily. She raised her left forearm up to cover her eyes, adrenaline subsiding, groaning at the burning pain in her right shoulder. She was looking at a black ceiling covered in square panels, a dim light illuminating the space.

“Are you hurt?” Leon asked, moving to crouch down towards her. 

“I’m OK, I’m OK,” Clara said, letting out the smallest of laughs. She’d missed this. “I’m surprisingly OK.”

“What happened in there?” said Trudi. “We heard a loud bang and then that alarm started-”

“So yeah,” Clara raised gingerly, putting her elbows underneath her. Leon was to her left, holding out his hand to help her up. “Thank you,” she acknowledged as sat up fully. She immediately put her right hand to her head to rub away a small burst of dizziness.

“Claaaaara?” Sky said loudly.

“Yes Sky,” Clara laughed, “I’m here.”

“What happened?” Kodey asked, trying to restrain Sky from running towards Clara.

Francis appeared on Clara’s right, extending his palm to help her up to her feet quickly with Leon. She hauled herself up, momentarily a little unsteady as she instinctively pulled down her skirt and unzipped her jacket to allow her to breathe deeper. She looked down, realising every part of her body was covered in dust, dreading to think what her hair must look like. Clara looked around for a mirror like surface in the room they were in.

It was a small room with a desk placed towards the right hand side wall next to an alternative door, many files and papers were stacked on thick black shelves in front of her. Leon moved to sit on a large leather chair on wheels identical to the one Ashildr had sat on to her right. Francis perched on the edge of the desk, removing his jacket to place it on top of a cupboard to the right of the desk. Kodey and Trudi were leaning up against the wall to her left. Sky had escaped from Kodey’s grip and had gone directly to Charlie’s jacket, wrapping herself in it.

“So,” she said, aiming herself towards the slightly mirrored porthole in the black door on the left of a large window covered with closed black metal venetian blinds behind her, using the reflection to straighten her hair. “After you went, I set off the alarm to distract all the creatures to the other side,” she paused to run her right hand through the strands, pausing for breath before blurting out, “I climbed down that big thing in the middle, it collapsed completely, I threw myself off it, the boss man tried to throttle me, I escaped, approximately one hundred zombie monsters tried to kill me, I managed to set off that alarm again, and then,” she picked at her hair a final time, smiling, “I escaped,” she spun around. “Any questions?”

“Why were you running with a coat?” Kodey asked after a few seconds, pointing towards Sky who had now disappeared underneath it.

Clara brushed as much residual dust as she could off her body, looking at her black tights pulling them away from the skin and releasing back towards the body,“well I just need to accept these are grey now,” she said to herself, “don’t I?”

“The coat?” Kodey reminded her.

“Oh yeah,” said Clara, laughing once, “sorry, can’t go around saving everyone and looking like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards, can I? So yes, the coat,” she pointed, “that’s boss man’s. Felt pretty heavy so I thought it might have useful things in it,” she said nonchalantly, “didn’t have time to check the pockets as I was busy trying to avoid being killed and had to prioritise quickly but-”

“How on earth did you manage to do that?” Leon asked.

“Don’t ask,” Clara replied, not wishing to relive the memory of him casually being thrown fifty feet in the air, “at the very least one of you has got a very stylish, if a little bit dusty, jacket out of it,” she said as she crouched down to pick it up. Sky grabbed the other end and tried to instigate a tug of war with her over it.

She groaned slightly, releasing her side. “Sky?” Clara said, sitting on her knees.

“Yes Claaaara,” Sky replied as she covered herself in the coat again.

“Can I have a look at this for a minute?” she said.

“No,” Sky snapped, clutching the fabric close to her chest, “it’s mine.”

“Technically not yours,” Clara said under her breath impatiently, “please Sky, this is really important.”

“When I’ve finished I will give it straight back-” she stopped as Francis appeared to her left and roughly wrestled the coat off Sky.

Sky instantly began crying in a high pitched wail that offended Clara’s ears, still sensitive from the loud alarm.

“Thank you Francis,” Clara said patronisingly, not moving, watching him with her eyes. “I did have that under control.”

Francis emptied a number of objects onto the desk in front of him and then returned to give the jacket back to her, immediately silencing Sky’s scratchy sobs.

“Thank you, grumpy pants,” Sky giggled, the previous thirty seconds completely forgotten. She put her arms through the sleeves and wrapped the bulk of the material around her stomach

“The nicey nicey thing might work in the classroom, but where I’m from we get stuff done,” Francis said.

Kodey and Trudi had moved towards the desk, curious to what items they had now acquired. Clara slowly got to her feet and went to join them. Trudi set the crowbar she had been holding on the floor below the two windows with a clank.

“So what do we have?” Clara asked, arms folded, moving to stand on the right hand edge of the desk, on Francis’ left.

“We have one intact pulsade,” Kodey said, holding a small black egg shaped item up in his right hand. “What they put in the Volito with Sheila when they, umm, you know.” He threw it towards Clara, she just about caught it in both of her hands against her stomach. 

“This is like a grenade, right?” Clara said.

“Yeah, but much less primitive,” Kodey explained, “you set it in minutes and then it goes bang.”

“OK, so egg timer grenade,” Clara nodded, “like it. I’ll be holding on to this.” She slipped it into her right pocket.

“How on earth did they get that in?” Trudi asked Leon.

“No moving parts,” Kodey answered her, “made of marble, wouldn’t look out of place here, fairly easily I’d say.”

“What else do we have?” Clara said, gazing at the assortment of items.

“A small handgun,” Kodey said, pulling back the barrel, “but it’s empty.” He set it back down on the desk. “Useless.”

“Communicator,” said Leon, moving a small cylindrical item between his hands. “A few pieces of paper. Nothing else useful.”

Trudi was flipping through a small collection of post it note size laminated sheets. “This is just blueprints of some of the support areas,” she said.

“What’s the communicator?” Clara asked.

“Very basic,” Leon said, holding it up, “these things are about thirty years old.” It was a small brushed silver cylinder, an inch in diameter and three inches long, “the last time I saw one of these was in a museum,” he chuckled softly.

“What’s it do?” Clara asked, folding her arms, pointing with her hand.

Francis, Trudi, Leon and Kodey all turned to look at her with creased eyebrows in various levels of shock. Francis laughed under his breath.

“Umm,” Leon paused, saying a little patronisingly, “it communicates.”

“Well, yes,” Clara said, realising she had actually asked quite a stupid question, “I know that. I do have basic English vocabulary… what I meant was… what’s it do? How does it work?” She folded her arms tighter.

“Oh, I see,” Leon grinned, returning his attention to the silver object. He split it slightly along the diameter and pulled the two sides apart as if it were an Egyptian scroll, displaying a clear rigid plastic film a foot wide. A fluorescent blue outline appeared around the edges of the exposed plastic, and then four blue panels become filled in. “Like this,” Leon pointed, sitting down on the leather chair and setting the communicator on the desk in front of him, “let’s see what we can find out then, shall we?” He flipped up the far ends of the silver supports, projecting a small panel at a forty five degree angle. He began tapping on the projected buttons.

Clara moved around the desk to stand closer. “You know, that’s kind of cool.”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Kodey said, laughing, “my grandmother would laugh at this. It’s slightly better than that brick you’re carrying around with you-”

“Excuse me,” Clara responded playfully, “my phone is not a brick! If you want to see a brick remind me to show you my grandmother’s 3210, it has two colours and all you can do is play a game called Snake-”

“Find anything, Leon?” Trudi said loudly, silencing her.

“Not yet, doesn’t appear to be anything stored on it, but-” Leon paused as the plastic surface and the projected area turned green. “We might just be about to find out.” A large green panel displayed the words ‘INCOMING COMMUNICATION’ in green translucent letters.

“Should we answer it?” Trudi said suspiciously. “They might send more people to us.”

“Yeah,” Kodey said, “they could track us.”

“Don’t have anything to lose, do we?” Leon said to the group, folding his arms and leaning back in the chair.

“I say let’s do it,” Clara nodded, figuring any information had to be better than nothing, “everyone agreed?” There were muted nods around her.  
Leon pressed a large green telephone symbol on the horizontal surface. A female figure appeared on the projected side. Clara recognised her as the blonde woman who had taken over Ashildr’s reflection earlier in the shop. She peered over Leon’s shoulder to look. She was lit heavily against a nondescript background.

“Hello, Charlie-” the blonde woman said from the screen in an American accent before she paused and narrowed her eyes. “Who are you?”


	55. Chapter 55

Kodey and Francis both looked towards Clara, unsure of what to say.

“Hi,” Leon said, raising his left hand to wave nervously.

“I’m afraid Charlie is,” Clara paused, wanting to find out information, moving her face closer to the communicator, putting on her best secretarial voice, “out of the office at the moment. Can I help you?”

“Barry!” the woman sneered, drawing her piercing green eyes closer. “How do you have this? Tell me.”

“Just for the record,” Clara stated, “my name’s not Barry, I think my friend was having a-”

“I thought she wasn’t your friend?” the American replied curtly. “I seem to recall it being a very touchy subject for her-“

“See, look, even she knows,” Francis sniggered to her left. Kodey, Leon and Trudi all stifled quiet laughs.

Clara aimed her left forearm across Francis’s chest with a considerable force. “Seriously?” she narrowed her eyes at him.

Francis held up his hands in mock surrender, grinning. “Sorry.”

“Let me speak to Barry,” the blonde woman snapped.

Leon stood up and offered the seat to Clara. She sat down, perching on the end.

“So, Barry, we meet at last,” the American voice purred. “Ready to hand yourself in yet?”

Clara folded her arms and leant forward onto the desk. “Let me think about that for a second,” she paused, thinking, “afraid not, sorry. And my name isn’t Barry.”

“I thought as much,” the blonde woman nodded.

“However, if we are going by your standards of naming I guess I am now Charlie. What… a… coincidence!” Clara smiled widely. “So which one are you then?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Do you really think I would tell you that?” the green eyes burnt into the screen with the words. “Think again.”

“Well, OK then,” Clara nodded, smiling to herself, “right then guys,” she said to the group, “let’s try to think of all the people in the Anti-Greed Alliance,” she stopped, chuckling to herself, “great name by the way, never not going to be funny.”

“Charlie,” Trudi said, almost interrupted her.

“Yes, Trudi!” Clara nodded at her, “grey hair, beige trench coat, but that was an easy one.”

“Where is Charlie? What have you done with him?” the American said loudly.

“OK,” said Clara, ignoring her, “who else?” She drummed the fingernails of her left hand loudly on on the desk.

“Victor,” Leon offered.

“Oh yes,” Clara acknowledged, “Victor, or as I prefer to call him… Russian Bruce Willis.”

“How do you know our names?” the blonde woman demanded. “Tell me!”

“Shh,” Clara said to the screen, “we’re brainstorming. Good for team morale. Who else?” She put her right index knuckle to her lips.

“Roo,” Kodey pointed, “she was one of them.”

“Ahh yes,” Clara smiled and pointed to the ceiling, “Roo. Good trick leaving one of your own in the operations centre. Hadn’t considered that.”

“What about that guard?” Francis said, tapping her on the shoulder.

“Good one Francis,” she laughed, “I’d forgotten about the guard, Alpha… Two wasn’t it? So we have him. You all have phonetic names, we’ll get there eventually, won’t we?” She folded her arms and looked at the screen. “Or you could just tell me and save the effort?”

The blonde woman narrowed her eyes at Clara, not moving.

“No?” Clara pursed her lips, she thought out loud, “OK, then, stop me when I reach the correct one. Alpha, no, that’s already been used, Bravo, no, Charlie, that’s a man’s name…” she continued, realising that she remembered what Ashildr had said to her on the phone, “Delta, it’s Delta, isn’t it?” She grinned widely. “Although, you do look more like a Juliet to me though if I’m being completely honest, was that one taken?”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Delta snapped.

“I’m the person who is going to stop you,” Clara said unflinching.

Delta laughed loudly. “You are the second person to say that to me today,” she paused, “the first was exploded out of an airlock three hours ago, probably halfway to Amatraxos and… dead by now, so please, go ahead, make your empty threat and see if it works.” She smiled widely.

Clara stared at her through the screen, tilting her head, folding her arms. “Tell that to your mates Charlie and Roo,” she said after thirty seconds.

“Why?” Delta asked, turning her face sideways a little.

“They’re infected,” Clara said, slightly tinged with sadness, “along with all the other millions of innocents you have dragged into all of this.”

“No!” Delta shouted, banging her fist heavily down on whatever surface the communicator was resting on, hard enough to make the image wobble. “No! He was supposed to get you and come back! What did you do?” The colour drained from her face, eventually being replaced with sneering anger. “I am going to kill you!”

A second face appeared in the background behind Delta. It was a teenage boy with square black rimmed glasses wearing a grey hoodie.

“What’s going on?” he said gruffly, a few metres behind Delta on the left of the screen. “Why all the noise?” He noticed the video screen and moved closer to sit next to Delta. “No way!” he said, smiling, looking at her. He pointed down the lens, “…is that?”

Delta nodded, rubbing her forehead with her left hand.

“Oh, hello,” said Clara flippantly.

“Well, hello Barry,” the boy settled himself, grinning, “I must say, you look much better than your photo-”

“What?” Clara reacted instantly, blushing a little. “Umm… thank you?”

“I think he’s coming on to you,” Francis sniggered over her right shoulder, pointing at the screen. “Obviously didn’t get the memo-”

“Really?” Clara turned around in her seat to face Francis, aiming her best death glare at him.

“-although I did like you whilst you were running away from the bots, very… athletic,” the boy smirked.

“He’s young enough to be one of my kids!” Clara said in a harsh whisper directed at Francis, aiming a thumb back at the screen. “And really not my type.” She returned to look at the screen. “Sorry,” she directed at the teenager.

“You’ve got kids?” said the boy from the screen, looking crestfallen. “That is disappointing-”

“She has thirty of them,” Kodey said over her left shoulder.

Clara swivelled in the chair, redirecting her narrow glare towards him. “You too? Come on!”

“My, my,” Delta sneered from the screen, looking her up and down, raising an eyebrow, “you have been busy.” There was a soft tap on the window to Clara’s right that distracted her for a second.

Clara inhaled and exhaled loudly as she returned to focus on the screen in front. “How dare you judge me!” she near enough roared back at the screen, “you’ve not known me for more than a minute! Firstly, Ashildr, she’s not really my friend, technically current travelling companion, definitely not my girlfriend and, not that it matters, I don’t have any children, the kids he,” she lilted her head at Kodey, increasing her volume the further she continued, “is referring to are the kids I teach in my normal job as a secondary school teacher. I hope that has cleared that up for everybody because, I am really not in the mood to talk about it anymore, OK?” She breathed quickly, annoyed, anger coursing through her veins.

Delta only smirked back at her, daring her to continue. 

The boy began laughing hysterically. “I like her,” he said to Delta, pushing up the glasses on his nose. “Feisty.”

“And who the hell do you think you are?” Clara said to the boy, still brimming with anger. “Or do I have to go through the whole guess which letter of the alphabet you are masquerading as thing because frankly, it’s getting a bit boring-”

“I’m Mike,” he said holding his arms up, still grinning. “Pleased to meet you. Now what’s happened to Charlie?” he said seriously.

“He’s had an unfortunate accident,” Clara said unflinching, “and got infected. Whatever little plan it is you’re carrying out will have to be done without him… and Roo. Sorry.” Clara stared them out, raising the smallest of smiles.

“You will pay for this,” Mike said, suddenly sternly.

“Technically I didn’t do anything,” Clara folded her arms, laughing once, “might want to tell your lot that shooting up to the ceiling when you’re indoors with a whole load of concrete above probably isn’t the best idea… just saying-”

“Be quiet,” snapped Delta. “Barry you will come to us, otherwise I will kill everyone in that room with you.”

“Not going to happen,” Clara shook her head. “I am going to stop you. I am going to save everyone in this place and then I am going to go straight to the police and get every single one of you arrested and put away for the rest of your lives.”

Delta laughed once. “I don’t think so.” She looked away for a moment.

“Why are you doing this?” Clara asked, now keen to find out information. “Isn’t the money enough?”

“No, it’s not,” Delta replied, “this is about much more than the money.”

Mike got up and paced away from the screen.

“But you said if you get all the money then you will release the antidote for the infected,” Clara pressed her, “right?” She was sure Ashildr had mentioned something about a vial of yellow liquid and she wondered if this was an important detail.

“That is correct,” Delta stared at her, not giving anything away.

“What are they infected with?” Clara said with a raised eyebrow. “Zombie-itis?”

“Why would I tell you that?” Delta sneered.

“This antidote, how does it work?”

“We put this,” Delta moved her right hand off camera, creasing her eyebrows, “this,” her left hand disappeared as she stood up in front, checking the pockets of her grey shirt dress, “no, where is it?” she said quietly, “no!” Delta hurried away out of view, leaving a blank screen. “No!!” she screamed loudly.

“What’s happened?” said Trudi to Clara’s right.

Clara shrugged in response, “no idea, but she does not look happy.”

Leon pulled himself towards the projection, taking in details of the background. “They’re in one of the other operations centres,” he pointed, “not sure which one at this distance… I’d say north or south-”

“What was it Sheila said?” Francis said, asking Kodey. “South was it?” A loud thump sounded from outside the window.

“I think it was south,” Kodey nodded as Delta returned to sit down heavily in front of the screen. Her face was screwed up.

“Something the matter?” Clara said with a slight smile, reading the expression clearly displayed on Delta’s face. The antidote was missing.

“Nothing is… the matter,” Delta snapped.

“So the antidote…” Clara continued her questioning, “can I see it?” she raised an eyebrow, curling her lip.

“No,” shouted Delta. She rotated in the chair to look backwards, “how long, Mike?”

“Almost there,” came a muffled shout from off camera.

“I’d be a whole lot happier if I could see the antidote,” Clara continued, “just so I know that you have it… you do have it, right?”

“Of course they have it,” Kodey said stubbornly, aiming an open hand towards the projection, “when they get the money they will release it, everyone will be cured and I’ll get Luna and Hadija back.”

“Yes Kodey, nothing to worry about. I presume there are more than one of them, just in case one of them goes missing, right?” Clara tested.

“Yes,” Delta sneered, clearly lying as the colour had drained from her face.

“That’s very reassuring,” Clara said sarcastically. “You’ve been very useful.”

“Ready,” said Mike loudly.

“Well, as much as I’ve enjoyed out little chat, I’m afraid I have work to do,” Delta narrowed her eyes at Clara.

“Bye then,” Clara waved neatly, saying confidently, “see you later when I-”

The feed cut of instantly as the projection screen disappeared.

Clara sighed heavily, saying quietly to the keypad, “turn up and stop you.” The keypad glowed bright red in front, turning into orange, yellow and finally a harsh white light that made her retinas ache. “Is it supposed to do that?” Clara said as she pulled forward to inspect the unit, along with the others.

“No,” said Leon, “I don’t think-”

There was a loud pop and foot high flames exploded heavily towards Clara’s face. She instinctively put her right forearm up to cover her face once she realised what was happening, pushing the chair backwards to roll away. The others had done the same, she couldn’t feel the heat, but could tell it was raging. Several of the nearby files and papers had now caught alight, leaving the entire desk engulfed in flames.


	56. Chapter 56

“What the hell?” shouted Clara, fully prepared to be soaked with water as she noticed she was stood right underneath a fire sprinkler. “Any extinguishers or water about?” Clara said as she moved backwards. Sky tried to run past her towards the bright light, it took her and Kodey to take an arm each to stop her progress.

Leon looked around and then disappeared into a black cupboard under the shelves and returned with a small handheld fire extinguisher. He inspected it in his hands, initially unsure of what to do, eventually locating a metal pin which he pulled out and threw to the ground with a metallic clink. He fired a haze of white smoke at the desk which put out the flames near instantaneously, leaving a powdery white mist hanging in the air that caused Clara to clear her throat. She waved at the space in front of her.

“How did they do that?” Trudi said whilst coughing heavily.

“I don’t know,” Leon said, spraying the remnants of the canister on the desk until it was empty. The black surroundings of the room were now half covered in white expanding foam.

Clara cleared her throat loudly, covering her mouth with her left fist as she still held onto Sky’s left hand. “Any chance the communicator still works?”

Leon shook his head whilst frowning. He looked at her, immediately walking over, “you’re hurt.”

“No I’m not,” Clara said, shaking her head, “I’m fine.” As she got the words out a streak of pain tore down the left side of her face. “Ow,” she said, gingerly putting her left forefinger up to her cheek, finding it slightly wet. “Oh, no no no,” she spun around to look in the black glass of the door. The left hand side of her face was blistered and red. She hung her head, putting her palms flat against the door below the window. “Great. Well at least my eyebrows are still there,” she sighed, “and, considering the amount of hairspray I used this morning, so’s my hair so I guess that’s a bonus-”

“Your face is burnt,” Leon said, pointing, moving over. “Hmmm, we might have something for it.” He retrieved a first aid kit from another of the black cupboards under the shelves. He opened the zip and dug around for a few seconds before pulling out a nail varnish size spray. “Come here,” he said.

She stopped him half-heartedly. “Is this going to hurt more or less than what you two did to my hand?”

“I don’t know,” Leon grinned, activating the spray onto her cheek. It felt like concrete had been injected into her skin, initially it was painful, making her jaw lock tight. “It might feel a little cold.”

“Kind of have no perception of hot and cold at the moment, so that doesn’t bother me,” Clara said with no feeling in her face, she tilted her head, “just the pain.”

“Right,” Leon said slowly, creasing his eyebrows.

“I’m thirsty,” Sky said, accompanied by an almost piercing whine. She was tugging at Clara’s dress. “Claaaaara.”

“Yes Sky,” Clara said as Leon sprayed another dose of liquid on her face. “Hang on.”

“There,” Leon smiled. “It might be a bit red for a while.”

“Can I see that?” Clara said, taking the small red spray from him. It said, ‘FOR BURNS’ and had a large list of chemicals she didn’t recognise printed on a white label on the side. She moved her jaw around, comforted by the fact the pain had subsided.

Leon moved towards a metal hatch on the left of the shelves and then returned holding something behind his back. “Are you thirsty, little lady?” he crouched down to see Sky. She recoiled slightly behind Clara’s legs. “Oh now, come on,” he said, “what’s that behind your ear?” he said.

Sky felt up to her neck and shook her head, cowering backwards.

Leon reached towards her left ear, clearly holding a water pouch in his right hand, pulling it backwards, gasping falsely as if he had made it appear by magic.

Sky giggled and grasped out for the liquid, slumping ungracefully to the floor.

“There you go,” he said, rubbing the top of Sky’s blonde hair, hauling himself up to his feet. “Anyone else want one?” He returned to the hatch, pulling out two handfuls of the pouches, aiming them around the group.

“I don’t suppose you have any wine or cocktails back there?” Clara joked as she unconsciously put the burn spray into her left pocket and walked over, gratefully taking two of the pouches, eating the first and letting it dissolve on her tongue.

“Afraid not, but I’ll be sure to put in a recommendation,” Leon smiled widely as he threw a pouch to Francis who was leant up against the window with the metal blinds. He moved and there was a thud from the wall as the blinds settled. Leon held out a pouch each to Kodey and Trudi on his right, smiling. Leon rubbed his hands together and then folded his arms.

“So what are we going to do now?” asked Trudi, gulping back the water. “We have… nine hours before the deadline,” she said, pointing at the electronic watch on her right wrist.

“Where are we?” Clara asked, trying to work out what room they were in. She finished off the second of the water pouches, resisting the temptation to touch her burnt face. The smell of melted plastic and singed paper was beginning to permeate the space they were in.

“Health and safety office,” Trudi replied, returning to leaf through the small laminated sheets.

“I bet they are having a quiet day,” Clara said sarcastically. “Dead bodies, guns, fires, ceiling collapses, stampedes, zombies… people being exploded out of airlocks...” She cleared her throat gently.

“Yeah,” laughed Trudi quietly in response. “I’m sorry about your… friend.”

“Oh, Ashildr,” Clara said, waving her hand dismissively, “she’ll be fine, not worried about her at all,” she lied. 

Trudi smiled back at her, recognising she was being liberal with the truth, putting a reassuring hand on Clara’s right upper arm.

Clara moved towards the shelves at the rear of the room to distract herself, trailing her index finger along the outside edges of the various box files at eye level. She skimmed past first aid records, fire reports, structural checks and piles of papers stacked up haphazardly.

Kodey moved to sit on ground against the wall to her left. “Why did I come here today?” he groaned despairingly, head aimed backwards, “I could have stayed at home, still have my family… all for the sake of saving a few credits…”

Trudi strolled over and sat down next to him, putting her right arm around his shoulders.

Clara walked past a freestanding A4 sized framed certificate on her left. She picked it up and examined the contents of the small black frame.

“It’s OK… umm…” Trudi paused, clearly searching for his name.

“Kodey,” Clara said over her shoulder, having overheard their conversation.

“Thank you, Captain,” Trudi paused, “Kodey, everything is going to be OK.” She rubbed his shoulders. 

“How can you say that?” Kodey said, almost in tears.

“Come here, come here,” Trudi said, hugging him tightly.

Sky trundled over in his direction, wearing Charlie’s coat on her arms, the length of it trailing behind like an extravagant wedding dress. She laid on the floor and rested her head on Kodey’s leg.

Clara looked down at the award in her hands. It declared the TCM had been incident free for over two hundred years. She replaced it, smirking slightly, turning to a small picture on the wall of a young looking brown haired man with a large sculpted quiff doing a thumbs up. The potrait itself was almost cartoonlike in its appearance, features such as the nose and chin exaggerated, a smirk covering his face, bluey grey eyes highlighted. On closer inspection there was something aching familiar about the man, Clara shook her head, knowing she had seen many faces in the shopping centre and had probably seen someone like him. The motto she’d heard earlier in the pod ‘REDIMO ERGO SUM’ was at the top of the picture, along the bottom in a smaller black font were the words ‘RESPICE AD CAELUM’ followed by the line below ‘CHARLES DALSTRAM II’. It reminded Clara of the front cover of a video game she had confiscated from one of the Year 7s a few years previously. 

“Who is that?” Clara asked to no-one in particular, pointing at the picture. The sunglasses purred slightly in her collar, wanting her attention.

“Oh,” said Trudi, sidling up next to her, “that’s Charles.”

Clara looked back at her blankly, “Charles?”

“Sorry, we call him Charles,” Trudi laughed a little, “Charles Dalstram II, you know, the architect. He was insistent that there was a picture of him in every room.”

“Bit narcissistic,” Clara observed, remembering the conversation she had had with Ashildr earlier, “at least I know there is someone out there worse than me,” she said under her breath. “Why is he telling us to look to the sky?” The sunglasses chirped softly again.

“Nobody knows,” Francis said from the other side of the room, pacing, holding his hands against his hips. “He demanded it be on every poster. The management here kept up the tradition. I can’t tell you the amount of statues we have had to laser that on to.”

A thought occurred to Clara. “Management? What management? There’s no-one here! Does anyone apart from you guys actually work here?”

“We drew the short straw,” Trudi sighed, “this place only takes a skeleton crew to run generally, today one person for every job that needs doing, everyone else has the day off. I’ve had the last six years off so I guess I can’t complain. Things are mainly automated these days.”

“How many people are working?” Clara asked.

“Ten give or take,” Leon said.

“Ten?!” Clara said, incredulous. “Ten people!! When there are eight,” she raised her voice, “hundred million people in here?! No wonder eight people managed to get in here and take it over! There were more people down the Fox and Hounds at karaoke last Thursday night hearing me murder Ellie Goulding for god’s sake!” She couldn’t help but laugh.

Leon ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t know what we can do, this is how it is.”

Clara exhaled loudly, folding her arms, letting out a long loud whistle as she aimed her eyes at the ceiling momentarily. “Ten people,” she said under her breath, “brilliant.” She focussed her eyes on the rows of files on the shelves as something caught her attention.

“We seem to be going off topic,” Francis said, aggressively thumping the window through the blinds out of Clara’s vision. “How are we going to get off this thing?”

“Maybe we should go to the other operations centre? We’ve already taken two of the AGA out-” Kodey started.

“Wait a second,” said Clara, as something occurred to her that she couldn’t quite place, “wait a second... wait...” she paused, “a... second.” She walked a few paces backwards from the shelves holding her hands out to the side, twitching her fingers in the air as she thought. She turned around to face the group.

“What?” said Francis, hands on his waist directly on his sweat stained grey shirt, walking a pace forward. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m thinking,” Clara replied as she stepped forward. 

“Oh, so that’s your thinking face,” Francis acknowledged, indicating her body. 

“Yes Francis,” Clara answered shortly, pacing away from them again. “Think, think, think, think,” she said to herself, still twitching her fingers. She turned around and put her right index knuckle up to her lips. “I’m missing something. Something really, really obvious.”

The rest of the group exchanged shrugs between themselves, unable to see where this train of thought was going.

“What was it that you said earlier, Leon?” said Clara, looking up at the ceiling. Clara folded her arms, a small smile creeping over her face as she worked out what was bothering her.

“I don’t know what you mean?” Leon said, creasing his eyebrows, confused. “I said lots of thing earlier.”

“More specifically then, you said,” Clara moved her eyes from the ceiling towards Leon, folding her arms, “there had never been a fire in here.” She wondered why she had noticed this earlier, silently cursing herself.

“That’s correct, we have an excellent safety record, well, at least we did until today, everything in here is inflammable... there hasn’t ever been a,” Leon stopped suddenly as he had the same realisation she had just had, “fire.”

“So,” she said, pointing back in the direction they had just come and to the desk, holding her hand out, “unless the definition of the word fire has changed in the last eleven hundred years, I’m pretty sure we have just witnessed a miraculous event because, correct me if I’m wrong, but there has been a lot of,” she waved her hand around, “fire-like activity going on in here and where we just were.”

“OK, so there’s been a few fires,” said Kodey still sat on the ground, “under the circumstances I think that is perfectly understandable. The roof did collapse and that communicator thing blew up.” Sky was squirming in his arms, he dropped her to the floor.

“That...” said Clara starting, “is actually a very valid point,” she agreed quietly. “But,” she continued, “there’s been at least two today, three if you count my mate setting that computer on fire earlier.”

“Oh, so she’s your mate now is-” Francis said with a raised eyebrow.

“Shut up,” Clara snapped.

“What’s your point?” Trudi asked, confused.

“My point is,” she paused, “usually when there’s a fire, some water comes from the ceiling and puts it out... I should know,” she folded her arms, unable to stop herself speaking, “I once had to go home in the middle of the day when I caught Jordan Cole sat smoking in the stationary cupboard and he set the alarms off, never seen so much water in my life. Most of it was over me. Hair didn’t recover for a week.”

“I still don’t understand...” said Kodey, trying to hold onto Sky’s arm, “who is Jordan Cole?”

“Year ten, very disruptive,” Clara said dismissively. “Now I wouldn’t pretend to be a health and safety expert,” Clara said, distracted looking up, tilting her head, “actually, saying that, the last time I was stuck in a situation like this on my own in Bristol I did, but anyway,” she trailed off, “this is a big place, there must be some sort of fire precautions, it must be someone’s job to check this sort of stuff, right?” She paced over to the shelves and pointed at a file marked ‘Fire Safety Checks’, “it’s right here, look. So there’s a fire and nothing to put it out... come off it,” she paused, savouring her moment of revelation. “So what is that?” she pointed up at a sprinkler head on the ceiling.

“That?” said Leon, moving a few paces to inspect what she was looking at, “that’s nothing. They don’t do anything.”

“Nope,” said Clara, “they,” she pointed along the ceiling, “or rather that, is a fire sprinkler.”

“It’s a design feature,” said Francis, shaking his head, hands on hips, joining Clara and Leon below the sprinkler head, “indicates the middle of the panels.”

“Trust me, it’s not,” Clara stated, pulling out the sunglasses, “I spent six months doing the fire safety checks at work to try and get back in the school secretary’s good books after the great Secret Santa Tena Lady drama of Christmas 2013,” she put them on, view obscured by the large scratch on the left lens. “So here’s my question....” Clara said looking up, folding her arms and drumming her fingers against her elbow, raising an eyebrow, “why are they not working?”


	57. Chapter 57

Clara scanned the sprinkler head with the sunglasses, immediately discovering a spider-like network of pipes connected high up in the ceiling. It contained a viscose fluid that showed up as blue in the lens of the sonic sunglasses. She tried to scan it at a molecular level but was unable to find the setting due to the large scratch on the outside left lens.

“Yes!” said Clara, grinning, “I was right!” She took off the sunglasses to look with her eyes and pointed to the sprinkler. “There’s some sort of liquid in there, and it is definitely not water.”

Francis edged to join her, shielding his eyes from the harsh artificial light above.

“I’ve worked here for twenty years,” Leon said, “and this is news to me.” He squinted at the ceiling.

“What could it be, Leon?” Trudi asked, standing up to inspect the equipment.

“Beats me,” Leon shrugged, “not a Scooby Doo.”

Clara retrained the sunglasses, letting them figure out what to do. They began scrolling through building schematics in the lower right hand side lens. There was no way to activate the device from this distance, even though she scrolled through as many settings as possible.

“Yes!” Clara said as a four digit code appeared in her vision. “Where or what is F067?”

“Umm,” Trudi paused, mentally trying to figure out her answer, “I know it’s furniture, but-“

“I think it’s a plant room,” Leon interrupted, scratching his forehead

“You could look at the map?” Francis said, moving towards Sky.

“Whatever it is,” Clara pointed, folding up the sunglasses and putting them in the collar of her dress, “we need to go there as it has something to do with these sprinklers.”

There was another loud thud from the other side of the room. Clara tried to ignore it but Francis banging on the window was really beginning to annoy her.

Kodey looked down at Sky next to him. “So, navigator, do you still have the map that Clara gave you?”

Sky nodded, still entangling herself in Charlie’s jacket, climbing on his legs.

“Can I have it?” Kodey said nicely.

“No,” Sky snapped, “it’s mine.”

“Who made the five year old our navigator?” said Francis under his breath, putting back on his ripped green jacket.

“Where’s the nearest thingy…” Clara clicked her fingers a couple of times, “you know, umm… the thing that makes me feel sick… the transmitters? ” realising she could have just used the sunglasses to answer the question.

“In the corridor,” Trudi replied, “on the left, second right.”

Kodey poked Sky in the ribs, tickling her, she dropped to the floor and began to roll around, giggling. Kodey deftly removed the map from the front pocket of Sky’s pink dungarees and threw it in Francis’s direction.

“And that door?” Clara pointed to the left of the desk, moving towards it. “What’s in here?” she asked, palm on the round door handle. 

“Umm,” Leon said, folding his arms, “it’s a-”

“It could be another way out,” Clara said over him opened the door, curious. She looked inside, seeing nothing but a small toilet bowl and a sink, her nose also noting the room’s purpose, “or… it could just be a toilet.” She turned around, shutting the door behind her, leaning back against it slightly embarrassed.

Trudi stifled a laugh. “Great investigative work there, Captain.”

“Thank you,” Clara acknowledged.

Francis had opened the map in his hands and was inspecting the hologram with Leon. “Right, so,” Francis paused, rotating the image with his right hand, “F067 is here,” he zoomed in.

“So it’s not a plant room,” Leon said, resting a hand on his chin, “it’s the archive, sorry, I mean the crisis liaison auxiliary records archive.”

“The,” Clara cleared her throat, creasing her eyebrows, “crisis liaison auxiliary records archive? What sort of the name is that?”

“Are those sunnies broken or something?” Francis asked.

“Why would we need to go there?” Trudi said, “nothing in there but all the back-up filing, historical documents, blueprints and all of the security… evacuation… protocols…” she said slowly, a grin creeping on to her face.

Leon laughed to himself. “Guess those things aren’t broken.”

“Of course they’re not,” Clara nodded curtly, “so how do we get there?” She moved towards the group to look at the map. “I feel a plan coming on.” She turned around, running a hand through her hair.

“Same way Trudi said,” Leon confirmed, “into the corridor, first left, second right.”

“So, let’s move out,” Clara said, “get your things and let’s go.”

A loud thump resonated on the window.

“Francis,” Clara snapped loudly, spinning around quickly, “for god’s sake, can you please stop banging on the window!”

“I’m not,” Francis said back, confused. He was facing her several paces away from the windows and the blinds.

“There is really, no need,” Clara said, increasing her volume, “if you want to bang on a window, do it somewhere else!”

“I don’t… and I’m really not,” Francis replied, holding up his hands in surrender.

“OK,” Clara admitted, cautiously aiming her eyes at the blinds. “So what’s that noise?”

“It’s probably just the air conditioning or something,” Trudi replied flippantly, “happens all the time in these corridors, nothing to worry about.”

Two large thuds came from the window, causing the metal blinds to shake a little. Francis, Leon and Trudi all moved to look. Another five or six jolts made the covering rattle violently.

“I have to say,” Clara thought out loud, pointing at the window, “you’ve got some very aggressive air conditioning going on in here, haven’t you?”

Francis closed up the map and put it into his front right trouser pocket as another thump sounded. “What is that?” he began backing away with Trudi and Leon towards the row of black shelves.

“I don’t know,” Clara moved cautiously towards the blinds, watching them shake almost rhythmically now, fluttering metallically. She moved her hand towards a small gun metal grey manual slider on the right side of the covering.

“What’s out there?” Kodey asked, standing up, pulling Sky with him towards the others.

Clara hovered her hand over the slider, right side on to the window, pausing to look at the others before flipping it up.

Trudi, Leon, Francis and Kodey all shouted loudly as they lost all colour to their faces, their mouths hung open in shock as they clung to each other.

Clara immediately backed away as the two windows had at least fifteen infected bodies pressed up against the glazing, a number of them pounding their fists against the pane, dark marks where the skin was impacting. Two of them had their cheeks pressed tight, drooling onto the floor. Numerous thick smudges of greasy fingerprints and pock marks of saliva were splattered across the window. An audible collective groan was apparent once they had revealed themselves to the pack. Clara stood on tiptoes and saw the corridor completely full of bodies.

“OK,” Clara said deadpan, swiftly closing the blinds again, standing in front of the window to address the rest of the group as she would her class at school, “so I think we can successfully rule out the air conditioning as the source of that noise,” she pointed behind with her thumb, “can’t we?”

“It would appear so,” Trudi said a little sheepishly.

“I don’t think that corridor is a viable route anymore,” Clara shook her head, “unless anyone wants to take part in their own personal Resident Evil action scene?” she looked around for a few seconds, offering. “No? Thought not.”

Another thump came from outside, shortly followed by a small crackle that could only be the glass of the window beginning to falter.

“They’re getting in!” said Kodey desperately, “what are we going to do?” He held Sky against him.

Clara turned around to face the window and began backing off towards the group. “Everyone, look around, is there any way out of this room?” Clara inspected the ceiling, nothing other than square panels and the fire sprinklers. Trudi had gone into the small toilet. “Any vents or grates, anything like that?”

Francis threw the charred desk to one side, searching the wall to no avail, he turned to Clara and shrugged nonchalantly.

The banging continued apace on the glass, now interspersed with unsettling hollow taps.

Leon and Kodey had begun clearing off shelves worth of papers and files as if they were trying to ransack the area. Sky, still enclosed in Charlie’s jacket, had begun dancing in the stream of residual papers, floating down to the ground like confetti as they were disturbed. Clara ripped a few posters off the wall, discovering only flat smooth wall behind, she moved a few small cupboards off the perimeters to see exactly the same.

“I’ve got nothing,” said Trudi loudly, re-entering the main space. She looked around, throwing a few of the pictures frames, including the caricature of Charles, loudly to the ground. They smashed with small tinkles.

Clara stood with her hands on her hips in the middle of the room as the others began to stop their seemingly pointless searching. Francis picked up the discarded shotgun from the floor, holding it in his left hand. His watch sparkled brightly, poking out of the sleeve of his jacket. Clara watched as the insert of the picture of Charles wafted to the ground, ripped and folded over. She wondered why Charles’s face was unsettlingly familiar. “Respice ad caelum,” she muttered to herself, gazing to the ceiling.

“Hold this, will you?” Francis said loudly in her direction, distracting her from her thoughts. He was pointing at the leather chair, holding it in front of her. Kodey and Leon were finishing flinging files and papers behind them. Sky was on her back, throwing sheets of paper into the air above her.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Clara said, trying to anchor it to the floor as best she could.

“Only place we haven’t tried,” Francis said as he jumped up onto the seat of the chair, his head three feet below the ceiling holding the shotgun aloft, “judging by the height there should be tonnes of space above us… so let’s give it a burl.”

An especially loud collective thud permeated the encroaching silence in the room.

Clara watched as Francis roughly stabbed the stock of the gun hard against one of the metre square black panels. It punctured effortlessly just off centre above him, leaving it embedded in the material. He heavily removed the gun, taking another swipe to make a hole large enough to put his hand inside.

Francis passed the gun down to Clara, her neck beginning to ache slightly from gazing upwards. She let go of the chair momentarily to drop the shotgun to the floor with a loud clatter, causing Francis to wobble slightly. “Now if I can just…” he paused, inserting his right hand into the jagged torn hole up past his elbow, standing on tiptoes on the leather chair, “unhook… the…” he said, as there were a series of light taps on the surface above as Francis scratched around trying to locate something, “… tabs.”

Leon helped Clara to support the chair as Francis ferreted around inside the ceiling. The outer window was still holding its integrity, although the thumps, rattling of the blind and the occasional crack were hardly providing reassurance. There was a loud click from above.

“You beaut!” he grinned widely, looking down at Clara to grin, “piece of pi-”

“Is there anything up there?” Trudi asked, blushing slightly as she approached.

“Just need to get the other three,” Francis said, shuffling his feet around to change his angle. A second snap resonated above as unexpected thud on the black door echoed loudly. The panel came away from the ceiling slightly in one corner.

“One more,” Francis said, straining, having to push his arm in further to reach. He grimaced, closing his right eye as he fished around, eventually locating what he needed, instantly smiling. There was another click, Francis carefully removed his arm from the panel, leaving it to flop down lifelessly. He pulled it heavily towards him and threw it like a Frisbee into the piled of disturbed equipment from the upended desk.

“Anyone got a light?” Francis asked looking around.

Trudi retrieved a small pocket torch and passed it up to him silently.

Clara caught the movement of the handle on the black door out of the corner of her eye, accompanied by more thuds at the window. It depressed fully and the door opened with a small hiss, an infected person standing in the visible crack.

“Kodey! Leon!” Clara shouted, running instantly to the door as it was out of anyone else’s line of sight, “help me!” She pushed the door back towards its frame as much as she could using her painful right shoulder, unable to close it until she had assistance. Six infected faces greeted her as she looked through the porthole of the door. The handle shook violently a few inches from Clara’s waist as she, Leon and Kodey held it closed.

Francis shined the torch into the shadowy space above the ceiling, nodding to himself. He put the rear end torch into his mouth and reached his hands up either side of the vacant panel. He hauled himself up using his upper body strength, soon disappearing above his waist, leaving just his legs dangling down as he sat on the adjacent panel.

“He’s so athletic…” sighed Trudi, watching as she held the chair.

“How are we looking Francis?” Clara said loudly, trying to subdue a large amount of pressure on the door behind her, only serving to accentuate the violent thumps on the rapidly cracking window to her left.

“Oh yeah,” Francis bellowed as his legs retracted, “there’s heaps of space up here. Looks like we can walk straight over everything.”

Patches of dust fell to the ground in the light as it was clear he was walking around.

Clara quickly formulated a plan in her head. “We need to find something to wedge this door shut… Kodey, Leon, look after the door.” She immediately went for the chair as the first solution, having seen it in hundreds of films, as she began rolling it along the floor she realised the obvious flaw in her thinking, stopping when the shotgun got under her feet, “… that is not going to work,” she said shaking her head. She picked up the gun to prop it up against the wall off the floor, pausing to look at it in her hands slowly and then back towards the door handle, a small smirk appeared on her face as she paced towards Leon and Kodey. She pursed her lips, tilting her head, saying nothing as she positioned the barrel under the handle, allowing the stock to wedge against the door frame. She let go and stood back, letting the others do the same, noticing it was being completely effective at immobilising the handle and the way in.

“Nice,” said Leon.

“Thanks, couldn’t find a broom so that will have to do,” Clara acknowledged, “so, next thing,” she paused, “we need to find a way for all of us to get up there,” she pointed up. “And I really don’t have time to grow a few feet taller.”

“We can use the desk?” said Leon, thinking out loud, “and maybe a few of the cupboards? Or the chair?”

“Good thinking,” Clara smiled. The door rattled ominously against the shotgun barricade.

Kodey and Leon righted the desk together underneath the missing panel as Clara and Trudi cleared the space below. Leon lifted up the chair onto the desk’s surface and judged its distance to the ceiling, nodding curtly.

“Can I just say as the person in charge here… that is,” Clara paused, folding her arms, “a complete health and safety nightmare, let that be noted,” she aimed her voice around the group.

“Thanks,” Leon laughed, “quite the achievement I’d say.”

“I may even classify that under the subsection total death trap,” Clara elaborated, a large smile covering her features. “And considering we’re in the midst of a zombie apocalypse event that really is something. Francis! Are you still there?” she shouted loudly up into the ceiling.

“Yep,” a loud voice boomed.

“Trudi,” Leon said, holding down the wheels in his hands, “you first.” Kodey steadied it from the other side.

Trudi sat on the desk top and shuffled backwards to get her legs underneath her to stand up. She cautiously put one foot on the seat of the chair, aiming a laser stare directly at Leon.

“It’s fine,” Leon smiled, “we’ve got you.”

“I’ll pull you up,” Francis said, as his head appeared squarely in the empty space.

Trudi blushed again, locating her hands either side of the missing panel just managing to reach the support. She jumped up and swiftly disappeared out of sight.

“Kodey, take Sky up next, then you can pull Leon up between you,” Clara said, noticing the shotgun had rattled out of position as the handle jolted unexpectedly. She moved to reposition it, ensuring the door remained shut. The window banged again, the sound of splintering wood came ominously from the other side of the metal blinds. “That does not sound good,” Clara thought out loud edging backwards, “quick as you like.”

Kodey swept Sky up in his arms, ignoring her sudden grizzling cries as he removed Charlie’s jacket from around her. “It’s OK, it’s OK,” he tried to soothe, holding her against his chest. He sat Sky on the raised chair as he swung his right foot onto the surface of the desk.

“Francis,” Leon boomed, “get ready.”

Kodey lifted Sky up, stepping in the seat as Leon supported it, she was still crying and sniffling loudly. He passed her to a pair of awaiting hands. Clara heard the wailing noise disappear into the ether above. A series of tiny taps began making their way across various ceiling panels. Kodey put his left foot on the back of the chair as Francis helped to haul him up.

The left window cracked slowly, suddenly exposing a mottled purple hand through the individual metal slats of the blind. It grasped at the air as nuggets of glass scattered down to the floor.

“Oh my god,” said Clara, reacting, instinctively moving away from the window. “Leon, get yourself up, I can avoid them, remember?”

Leon nodded, looking cautiously towards the window as another purple fist appeared, pulling at the blinds, breaking the supports and tearing it down, leaving a cracked panel visible and at least ten people wanting to climb inside the room by breaking down the glass. He knelt onto the desk top, left knee first, then right and pulled himself up onto the chair.

“I really should have skipped lunch today,” Leon said, trying to make light of the situation, peering up to see Kodey and Francis either side of the ceiling panel.

Clara let out a small laugh, trying to restrict the movements of the chair wheels as much as she could.

“Don’t any of you drop me,” Leon warned playfully, pointing up and looking back down at Clara. She smiled back.

“You’re all good, mate,” Francis grinned, extending his right arm down to grasp Leon’s right inner wrist, encouraging Kodey to do the same on the other side. They lifted him a few inches and then Leon settled his feet on the back of the chair, leaving only his lower body exposed.

Clara was holding the chair facing away from to the window when she heard the glass disintegrate and found herself immediately forced to the ground unexpectedly, causing her to release the wheels. She was pinned back down to the floor, a heavy weight above her, pressing her neck into the concrete. She groaned loudly, trying to fight the figure above by punching her fists.

Leon dropped down a foot as he was left dangling from the ceiling as the chair spun off onto the other side of the room. “Guys! Guys!” he shouted upwards, “I’m going to fall!” He flailed his legs, unable to catch hold of anything.

“No you’re not,” Francis said, straining. “Kodey mate, pull backwards, Leon, when your elbows are high enough, anchor them…”

Clara heard the debate going on above her, attempting to concentrate on throwing the person who had collapsed on top of her off, trying several ways of moving her weight around to no avail. “Doctor!” she shouted loudly, before realising he wasn’t with her to help. She felt pressure around the skin of both her ankles above her boots, dragging her swiftly backwards face up to the window. She kicked her right foot, managing to free it by shoving the sole of her shoe directly into the face of her captor as she braced her left foot against the wall, knocking the crowbar loudly on ground.

Leon was edging upwards, now only visible from his hips down. A tall thin woman in a navy overcoat rose to her feet behind Clara inside the room, reaching for Leon’s right boot. She grabbed hold of it by standing on tiptoes and tried to drag him back down, growling menacingly.

Clara kicked her right foot against the restriction on her left ankle, freeing it after several well aimed blows. She reached to pick up the crowbar, pulling it along the floor with a metallic scrape as she barrel rolled to her right, out of the way of the many pairs of hands aimed in her direction.

She scrambled to her feet as quickly as she could, taking stock of the situation around her as she pulled down her dress. The infected woman had hold of both of Leon’s shoes, easily pulling him back down to show his waist.

“I can’t hold on! I can’t hold on!” Leon almost screamed, “let me go!” He tried to kick his legs, finding them immobile.

“Oh no you don’t,” Clara said as she wielded the crowbar, pacing towards the woman, landing a confident two handed swipe at her right forearm with the long straight edge, noticing the limb instantly deform and hearing the bone snap. The woman released Leon’s legs, turning to face her slowly, right arm hanging limply down by her side, left hand immediately targeting Clara’s neck. She quickly paced backwards to escape the woman’s snatching grasp, pulling large amounts of disturbed paperwork along with her feet.

Leon kicked his legs, no longer restricted, disappearing up to his knees quickly. The ceiling panels above deformed slightly as he eventually was hauled out of sight by the others.

“Clara!” came Trudi’s voice from above.

Five or six bodies had entered through the window, now roaming around the room searching for the source of the noise and identifying it as being in Clara’s direction.

The infected woman managed to get fingertips onto the skin of Clara’s neck as she quickly ducked down out of the way before her back hit the hard surface of the wall behind. Clara managed to dive out of the way, ending up standing behind the woman in the navy blue overcoat as her palm touched the wall.

“Ah ha,” Clara smirked, “weren’t expecting that were you?” She suddenly found herself flung backwards quickly by the collar of her jacket, ending up three feet off the ground with her back into the black bookcase, a few shelves collapsing behind her. She crumpled to the floor crying in pain, surrounded by files, remnants of the shelving unit falling on top, her spine feeling like it had been shattered. The crowbar clattered out of her left hand onto a box file.

Three infected figures snapped to target her, all reaching out their hands six feet away. The door rattled violently, dislodging the shotgun out of the handle, leaving it free to open, revealing a large crowd of baying zombies fixated on Clara’s location.

“Ow,” Clara said clearing as much residual debris from her as she could, momentarily seeing stars in front of her eyes as the searing pain in her upper back subsided. She rolled over onto her front, propping herself up on her left shoulder, picking up the crowbar in her right hand as she got unsteadily to her knees.

Moving bodies were flowing into the room from the window and the door, leaving it impossible to get back to the desk and the open ceiling panel. 

A small boy darted for Clara’s waist through a gap in the crowd. She held the crowbar between both of her hands as a barrier, holding it against the child’s chest. She forced it forwards, shoving the boy back to the main throng of the crowd that was quickly surrounding her.

“Here,” said Francis’s voice from above.

Clara scanned her surrounding area, breathing heavily, holding the crowbar in front like a sword with both hands. She batted away an encroaching figure.

“Can’t you do what you did in the other room?” asked Trudi from inside the ceiling, “maybe they will leave you alone?”

Clara nodded and tried to slow her breathing, finding it difficult with all of the residual adrenaline pumping through her body. She hopped backwards onto the top of the small black cupboards to gain a height advantage, only now able to view the crowd in the room as a sea of mottled purple heads. She stopped breathing, unable to prevent her body shaking uncontrollably as the nearest woman in a white ball gown grabbed hold of her right knee. She gulped back heavily, trying to immobilise herself against the remnants of the shelving unit as the small child she had thrown off a few moments previously got a hand to her left ankle. Another hand clenched the material of her dress on the middle of her stomach, a grey haired woman caught Clara’s left elbow, tugging at it violently. All she could hear around her was a chorus of wet growling, snarling and groans, making her very uncomfortable.

After thirty seconds however, the silence seemed to be working. The rear of the crowd were beginning to lose interest, making their way back towards the shattered window and the door to return to the corridor and the grip on the ten hands holding on to various parts of her body was beginning to loosen. A tall thin blonde man in front grabbed the crowbar and tried to wrestle it away, failing as she let him think he had won only to then heavily pull it back towards her body. It slipped from the blonde man’s grip, embedding itself in the wall behind with a loud resounding clunk. A large nugget of plaster fell out onto the surface of the black cupboards as Clara regained control in her right hand. The noise had refocussed the nearby infected, who groaned collectively as they replaced the pressure on their grasping outstretched hands.

A few soft thuds sounded overhead, followed by two clicks.

Clara risked a quick glance to the ceiling, noticing that she was beginning to lose her footing as the group appeared to be trying to lift her up off the small cupboards. She threw her weight backwards towards the wall as much as she was able to.

The panel above flapped down towards the wall with a metallic clatter displaying Francis’s head in the middle. He grinned, at her waving slightly before extending his hand in her direction, at least six feet above her head.

Clara looked despairingly up at him, unable to find a way to reach whilst being pinned down in almost every direction. She tried to slow her breathing again, wanting to be away from this as quickly as possible.

“Clara,” shouted Leon from the other ceiling panel, “I’m going to distract them, get yourself up!” He leaned out of the gap, banging his palm on the next panel along.

The group of infected all turned around, inspecting the noise, almost instantaneously releasing her as they began to pursue the distraction.

Clara decided to hold her position until there was some daylight between her and the group, looking left and right, noticing a metal few shelving supports still attached to the wall that could be feasible to climb up. After Leon was suitably surrounded below by the growling mob, she placed the crowbar as quietly as she could horizontally across onto the highest bracket to help her up. She tentatively stepped with her right foot onto a very insecure bracket which thankfully held until she moved her weight up to the next one.

Francis caught hold of Clara’s right wrist once she was high enough, easily able to jolt her upwards a few feet as she still held the crowbar in her left hand, losing her footing as the bracket snapped beneath her. She clung tightly to Francis’s wrist as she swung freely, eventually managing to get the curved edge of the bar hooked onto the edge corner of the space in the ceiling. She kicked her legs, trying to find some traction.

Francis got his right hand onto the left shoulder of Clara’s leather jacket, swiftly hauling her up out of the room and into the shadowy area above, pulling her backwards towards him and away from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so I am gearing up for the beginning of the end with this - I've found it very difficult to write as I want to get it perfect so I am going to post a series of longer chapters once I've locked the details down. 
> 
> I have the main bulk of the ending complete, just a case of linking the bits together. I've stopped progress on everything else I'm writing to get this finished, so be prepared!
> 
> Please stick with me!! It will be worth the wait :-)


	58. Chapter 58

Clara found herself face down against a ceiling panel. It was perforated with tiny dots which allowed her to see through to the floor below. She quickly noticed she was lying on top of Francis in a position she wasn’t entirely comfortable with.

“Well this is awkward,” Francis laughed, not moving.

“Yes. Yes it is… Thanks,” she said, embarrassed, standing to get off. Her back and shoulder were very painful, she tried to rub them with her hands.

“You’re welcome,” he laughed, sitting up on his elbows, “always ready to save a damsel in distress.”

“Yeah,” said Clara, sarcastically, “I bet.” She paused and then began laughing softly. “Seriously,” she said, “thank you.” She extended her hand to help him up, trying not to grimace too much at the pain searing through her body.

“Cheers,” he dusted himself off, “be careful,” he pointed down, “don’t step on the panels or I’ll have to rescue all over again. Not that I mind of course. And… I’ll be taking this,” he picked up the crowbar off a nearby support, “just in case you get angry.” He began walking through the mess of wires and pipes around a partition wall to reach the rest of the group, uplit by the room below. Clara trailed a few paces behind.

“That blow you did to that thing’s arm,” Trudi mimicked her earlier crowbar swipe as she approached, smiling, “wow. I heard the bone snap from up here.”

“Erm… thanks,” Clara acknowledged, not sure whether she should be proud or not of breaking an arm quite so successfully. “Not something I usually do.” She looked down through the floor to see the group of infected moving below.

“It’s alright,” said Francis, laughing, holding up the crowbar and waving it, “I’ve taken it off her, just in case she does something similar the next time I ask her about her friend.”

“Well, it worked,” Leon said, “I could be one of them if it wasn’t for her, that woman almost had me and they are really strong-”

“It’s fine,” said Clara shortly, wanting to change the subject and get moving. “We need to go to the transmission thingy, so whoever is taking us please start.”

“Yes, Captain,” nodded Trudi, switching on the torch she had retrieved back from Francis. “This way.”

Francis followed her, backed up by Kodey and then Leon, holding Sky as if she were a backpack. She hugged him tightly, whimpering occasionally.

They walked in silence, threading themselves through a large assortment of wiring suspended from the roof, jagged scaffolding, pipes and plastic tubing. Clara retrieved her phone and turned on the light, allowing her and the others to progress without tripping.

“I really should have called in sick today,” Leon said over his shoulder.

“I really should have turned up yesterday,” Clara mirrored his tone. “We only came here to get some clothes, can you believe it?”

“If you get us out of here, I’ll have a word and you can have whatever you want,” Leon said warmly, “two hours ago I thought I was going to die tied to a scaffold, I at least owe you that.”

“Well, if we do get out of here, you’re welcome to join me, Francis and Kodey for a celebratory drink in the pub tomorrow,” Clara smiled. “Haven’t quite figured out where or when yet, but-” She stopped as she walked unconsciously into Leon’s back.

“We’re here,” Trudi said loudly from the front, allowing the others to circle around.

Francis crouched down, releasing the clips on the panel to flap it out. He removed it completely and twisted it up through the gap. He put his head down and looked around, returning to say, “all clear.”

“So how do we do this?” asked Clara, glancing around the faces, “where do we need to go?”

“This door,” Trudi pointed downwards, “you just need to go in and ask for the records archive or F067, we can all meet on the other side.” 

There were nods of agreement around the group.

“Do we all go in separately?” Clara asked, turning off the light on her phone and placing it back in her right pocket. She closed the zip.

“This is individual transmission,” Leon replied, “the only group transmission in this sector is outside the Operations Centre that is under a pile of rubble.”

“So we go in and ask for the records archive and that’s it?” Clara creased her eyebrows. She was beginning to get nervous about the transmission after being violently sick earlier.

“That’s it,” Trudi nodded. “Simple as that.”

“What about Sky?” Clara asked, pointing. “She can hardly keep her eyes open, let alone ask for something with words she hasn’t even learnt yet.”

“I’ll take her,” Leon said, “any child under six can go with an adult.”

“OK, good,” Clara said, peering down, “umm, how much of a drop would you say that is?”

“I don’t know,” Trudi said, mentally calculating, “about twelve feet.”

“Let’s see shall we,” Francis said, swinging his legs to hang down into the opening, sitting on the adjacent panel momentarily before taking his weight on his hands and dropping down though the gap. There was a small thud as he impacted with the ground flat on his feet, bending his knees.

Kodey moved to follow next. Clara watched as he fell to the ground, rolling away, grimacing in pain. Francis extended a hand to help him up.

“Go on, Trude,” said Leon, pulling Sky off his back to hold her against his chest.

Trudi disappeared. Clara saw Francis half catch her in his arms causing her to flush a deep shade of red as he helped stand her upright.

“She really does fancy him, doesn’t she?” Clara laughed quietly, arms folded as she peered through the gap.

“Oh yeah,” Leon agreed, “just a bit. Right then, young lady,” he said to Sky, putting her feet on the floor, “we are going on a little trip.”

“Chuck her down,” Francis shouted, “we’ll catch her.”

“Hang on,” said Clara loudly, putting out a hand to stop Leon, “you can’t just throw a five year old down a twelve foot -“

Leon sat on the edge and lowered Sky as far as he could before nonchalantly letting go.

“-hole,” Clara finished slowly in a harsh whisper as Kodey caught her like a rugby ball. Sky giggled, completely unaffected. He put her on the floor and she started dancing around. Clara rubbed her temples, letting out one short laugh.

“Come on then big man,” Francis laughed from below, “let’s see if we can do the same with you. Kodey mate, might need your help.”

“No, it’s OK,” Leon called down, “got plenty of padding. Out of the way!” He ungracefully rested onto his elbows and let himself fall, collapsing in a heap on the floor.

Clara stood on the edge, now it was her turn the distance looked double what it previously had been, easily as deep as the Grand Canyon. It reminded her of when Missy had pushed her down that pit on Skaro.

“Are you actually coming down,” Francis broke her thoughts, “or am I going to have to come up there and push you? Not like we’re in a rush or anything.” He playfully looked at his watch.

“OK, OK,” Clara said, lowering herself down, hanging on for dear life as she let go, finding herself caught in strong arms in a way that wouldn’t have been out of place in a romantic film.

“Making a bit of a habit of this, aren’t we?” Francis smirked, looking into her eyes as he placed her gracefully on the polished beige floor.

Clara rolled her eyes at him, hitching up her tights and pulling down her skirt. “You…” she pointed directly at him, “be quiet,” she said. Clara noticed Trudi and Leon had already left the small magnolia corridor.

The door in front swooshed open, Clara decided to dart in before the others, anxious to get the transmission over with and avoid any more awkward conversations with Francis until she had recovered a little.

‘Please scan your tag,’ the automated voice boomed after the door sealed behind her. The walls were off white, a space much smaller than the previous two times she had been through this process. She placed her hand into the scanning area, allowing the red lasers to traverse her skin. ‘Thank you. Please state your destination.’

“Records archive,” Clara directed at the wall, looking up cautiously to the ceiling.

‘Thank you. Please remove your tag and enter transmission area.’

Clara ran into the small white corridor at the end of the room, sensing her skin tingling and the now familiar sensation of her internal organs shifting to the outside of her body. A force kicked her out into a similar sized chalky green corridor as she just about managed to keep her balance.

“Woah, woah,” Leon said as Clara almost ran into him, “what’s the rush?”

“God I hate that thing,” Clara said as she slowed down to a stop, “never gets any easier, well at least I haven’t been-“ She stopped, tasting bile at the back of her throat. Clara quickly identified a nearby rubbish bin and bolted straight for it, vomiting a little. She was grateful it was nowhere near as much as earlier, deducing the painkillers she had from the white box had probably worn off by now. She blushed with embarrassment.

“Ewww,” said Sky loudly, “Clara sick.” She giggled as Leon put her legs over her shoulders.

Francis strolled through the portal, barely breaking into a sweat, shortly followed by Kodey who ran into his back.

Clara stood up straight, seeing a small water and tissue machine to her right. She retrieved the items and returned to the group. “Sorry about that,” she said bashfully after eating the water and wiping her mouth, “my body just cannot deal with the whole transmission thing.”

“It took me over a year to settle down,” Leon said.

“Yeah, I used to chunder everywhere,” volunteered Francis, waving his hand around, “don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks,” said Clara, still embarrassed, following Trudi as they left the transmission area.

“I used to have nightmares about it,” Trudi smiled at her, “it was four months before I could get through without being sick.” Trudi turned right and down the dusty black walkway, illuminated by somewhat old fashioned style lightbulbs on the ceiling.

The corridor had the look of a passageway in a submarine, as the further they progressed the doors became heavy green hatches with rotating wheels on the front. Exposed piping crept along the walls and silver tubes covered the ceiling.

Clara saw the sprinkler heads interspersed with the lights every twelve feet or so. “Where are we?” she asked, “this looks…” she searched for the word, “old.”

“We’re in the original support areas of the first block of the TCM,” Trudi explained as they continued walking. “These corridors were built as a capsule and moved here.”

Clara trailed her hand along the top of a foot wide pipe on her left, collecting a handful of dust which she brushed off on her right jacket sleeve.

Trudi took the group down a corridor on the left and walked twenty metres before stopping outside a rounded rectangle green hatch door. ‘CRISIS LIAISON AUXILIARY RECORDS ARCHIVE’ was spray painted onto the front of the door in mottled white paint.

“I still think that is a ridiculous name… like someone has made it up to fit the letters,” Clara pointed as Trudi typed a long code into a silver keypad on the right of the door and it unlock with a resounding clunk, “given how much you guys love a three letter acronym surely it would be better to abbreviate it?”

“We call it the CLA Archive,” Leon said, adjusting Sky’s legs on his shoulders to lift her over his head and down onto the floor.

“Ah ha,” Clara smiled, “knew it.” 

Trudi turned the spindly silver lock wheel to the left several times until it stopped. She opened the green metal hatch door outwards to the left.

“Although technically shouldn’t it be five letters?” Kodey said, stroking his chin.

“Yeah,” Clara nodded, “good thinking.”

The internal surface of the door was grey and had a similar white spray paint marking on it, this time for the full abbreviation. ‘C.L.A.R.A’

“Now,” Clara said, tilting her head, raising an eyebrow, pointing at the letters, “if that is not a signal that we are in the right place, I don’t know what is.”


	59. Chapter 59

Leon, Kodey and Francis all looked at each other nonplussed as Trudi stepped over the one foot high step to enter the archive.

Clara couldn’t stop herself laughing in shock. “Wow.”

“How on earth has your name,” Leon asked, unable to look away, “ended up as the acronym for a room that was built almost three hundred years ago?”

“It could be just a coincidence?” Francis said, hands on hips.

“How many people do you know with that name?” Clara raised her eyebrows.

“Only you,” Francis said after he thought for a moment. He shrugged his shoulders and followed Trudi into the archive.

“Trust me, this is not coincidence,” Clara called out.

“I don’t understand…” Leon trailed off, shaking his head, lifting Sky over the step and into the room.

“This is good though,” Kodey said, “isn’t it?”

“I have no idea,” Clara shook her head, still unable to contain a smirk, pausing before following, glancing back at the door. “I’m sorry,” she unzipped her right jacket pocket, fishing out her phone, “but I need to record this moment, if I see her again Ashildr not believe this!” She opened Instagram on the phone and passed the handset to Kodey. “Point the camera at me, get me and that word in the square and press the white circle, will you?”

“What is this?” Kodey asked with a curious expression as he took the handset from her, inspecting the screen, doing as she said.

“A photo,” Clara answered, fluffing up her hair. “Just line me up and press the white button. I’d do it myself but I am rubbish at taking selfies… just ask Evie Hubbard.” She laughed once.

“You do realise she’s gone,” Kodey, confused.

“Who?” Clara asked, “Evie Hubbard?”

“No… your… umm…” Kodey searched for the word, “Sheila?”

“Yeah,” Clara said, slightly tinged with sadness for a second, “but if she is alive this is going to give me some major bragging rights and quite possibly an excellent profile picture,” she smiled cheekily, positioning herself with her right shoulder slightly against the door, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow.

“Done,” said Kodey, face creased up. “Whatever it is.”

“One more,” Clara leaned back against the door, smiling differently and pointing up at the painted message with both hands either side of her shoulders.

“Because that’s the most important thing right now,” said Francis under his breath, hands on his waist.

Kodey passed the phone back to Clara.

“Nice,” Clara nodded in review, turning off her phone, returning it to her pocket, “I’ll filter them later. Sorry, what were you saying?” She held out her arms and surveyed the small room, balancing on the step. It had twenty inactive video screens on the wall to the left, with a selection of seats in front of a dusty control panel that reminded Clara of a recording studio. There was another door marked with ‘C.L.A.R.A’ directly in front and many building schematics stuck to the right hand side wall. The beige paper looked old, crumpled with residual water and was peeling off in places. A picture of Charles, the Architect was hung in a small black frame to her right.

Kodey walked inside, hands in his pockets, trying to avoid Francis’s glare at Clara.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Francis said sarcastically, “yes, that’s fine, we’ll all just wait for you to pose, it’s not like we’ve only got,” he pulled up his left sleeve to look at his watch, “seven hours before everyone in here dies or anything. Strewth!”

“Oh come on,” Clara retorted playfully, stepping over the threshold. “If any of you had just seen your name spray painted on a three hundred year old door don’t tell you’d not all be doing exactly the same,” she smiled at the others as she closed the hatch with a clunk behind her, leaning back against it.

A silence hung in the air before Leon and Kodey started sniggering between themselves quietly, followed by Trudi a few seconds later, laughing a little louder. Clara joined in, unable to stop herself descending into a giggle that quickly progressed to almost side splitting laughter. Francis stood and looked at them all in turned, before putting the fingers of his right hand either side of the bridge of his nose and smiling widely, shaking his head.

“How does that even happen?” Clara said, wiping a small tear out of the corner of her left eye with her right index finger. “Never been here in my life. I told you someone had made up that name, the- the- the Crisis Liaison room… I mean really?” Clara stared to her right at the picture of Charles as her laughter subsided. It was a similar picture to the one in the Health and Safety office with his name emblazoned across the top and the words ‘EGO SUM EXIMIUS’ written in black capital letters beneath. “He is such an ego maniac, isn’t he? This Charles,” she pointed, putting on a fake voice, “I am excellent,” she shook her head playfully, pointing at the words.

“You know,” Leon calmed down, “today has been one of the strangest days I have ever worked.”

“Agreed,” said Trudi, rubbing her eyes with her fists.

Sky clambered up on to a battered padded brown bucket chair on the right hand side of the control deck. “I’m sleepy,” she whined, sitting upright and resting her head against the side. “Sleepy.”

“Aww,” said Clara instinctively, walking over to her, she crouched down and brushed some of Sky’s blonde hair off her face with her right hand. “Look at you,” Clara said quietly, putting her hand on Sky’s left shoulder, “all you want to do is go to sleep, isn’t it? Not a care in the world with no idea what is happening.”

“The innocence of youth,” said Kodey listlessly, “no commitments, no job… it was all so easy wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Clara sighed, watching as Sky’s head rolled slowly down and she began to snore lightly. She lifted her hand off gently and stood up. “Right then,” Clara said softly, turning away, “what do we do next?” She looked around the room, seeing the door marked ‘C.L.A.R.A’ on her left, presuming this was where she needed to go.

“I’m going to try and get this working,” Trudi patted the side of the bank of computer screens. “It has video connections to the operations centres and the nuclear reactors. These things haven’t been used for hundreds of years though, so it might take me a little time.” She pulled out a three inch long black hexagonal object from a pocket on her right thigh and flipped it end to end in her right hand, the smallest hint of a smile crossing her lips as she disappeared behind the unit of controls.

“If anyone can fix it,” Leon said, pointing, “she can.”

Clara moved towards the door on her left. “So what’s through here?” It was light grey, secured with a large rusty pull down black lever.

“The archive,” Leon said, “never actually been in there before myself, but it has all the original papers and documents, designs, blue prints, all of that.” He tried the handle, unable to get it to move, “if we can get in, that is…” aiming a glance to the others, “give me a hand.”

“Then it looks like that door has my name on it,” Clara mused, “oh wait… it does.”

“Do we need to stop to take another photo?” Francis said wryly, not moving as he goaded Clara.

“No I’m fine, thanks,” Clara replied curtly, “seen one three hundred year old door with my name on it, seen them all.”

Francis, Kodey and Leon all got a hand to the black plastic coated metal lever, straining as the mechanism finally began to move and settle with a reassuring clunk. The door released inwards.

“Ladies first,” said Leon, holding his hand out into the dark space.

“Thank you,” said Clara, balancing on the inch-wide foot high ledge with her right boot, holding either side of the door frame as she peered inside. The lightbulbs pinged on as she moved inside, revealing a small corridor of shelving racks full of files, papers and boxes. She could see the end of the room twenty feet away, much smaller than she was expecting.

“Small place for something so… big,” Kodey echoed Clara’s thoughts.

“Yeah,” Clara said, distracted as a green light flickered to life on the ceiling in front of her. She had initially assumed it was a fire escape sign, but realised it had ‘CLARA’ in white lettering and an arrow pointing to the right once it reached full brightness. Clara approached and followed the direction, noticing an identical sign above a small hatch on the perimeter wall.

“Why are there signs with your name on in here?” Kodey asked, walking behind Clara.

“I really don’t know,” Clara said as she stood in front of a grey waist height hatch two feet wide and three feet high. It was flat against the wall with no obvious handle, spray painted with ‘CLARA’ in the familiar white lettering. “But I think we are about to find out.”

“What’s this?” Francis asked Leon as they reached where Kodey and Clara were standing.

“No idea,” Leon replied, “your guess is as good as mine.”

“It needs a key,” said Clara, inspecting an unusually shiny silver keyhole on the middle left of the door. She searched around the hatch perimeter with her hands before asking Leon, “have you got it?”

Leon shook his head. “The TCM doesn’t use any keys, only codes and tags as they are less likely to get lost. I haven’t ever used a key in twenty years.”

“So we need to find the key,” Clara said out loud, putting her left thumb over the lock, “it has to be around here somewhere.”

“What are we looking for?” asked Francis loudly as he began searching a nearby wall.

Clara surveyed the key hole. “Small key,” she called out, “an inch and a half, Yale lock, probably silver,” she paused, realising her keys would give them something to aim for. She put her hand in her left pocket, retrieving them. “It would look a lot like these two,” she said fanning the two keys out with the smallest of scratches.

“What do they open?” asked Francis asked, returning.

“This one opens my flat in South London on Earth in 2015,” Clara laughed, “I’d invite you all round but it’s a bit messy after yesterday after a rather unfortunate incident with some sentient paper, and this one…” she lifted up the TARDIS key, “opens my time machine.”

“Your time machine?” Kodey asked, “really?”

“Yeah,” Clara said flippantly, “but seeing as she is currently in one of the numerous car parks here, it is of no use at all.”

“What does a time machine look like?” Leon asked. “I wonder if it’s turned up on our list.”

“Err… what list?” Clara asked.

“Crazy vehicles,” Leon explained, “I thought we’d seen everything until we had an entire restaurant turn up yesterday-”

“Umm…” Clara paused, laughing, “might be an American diner.”

“That’s yours?!” Leon laughed. “The guys back at base will not believe this.”

“A time machine that’s an American diner?” Kodey reflected blankly.

“Really?” said Francis, hands on his hips, “yeah right.”

“Yeah, the chameleon circuit broke so it’s kind of stuck like that,” Clara explained deadpan.

“Amazing,” Kodey folded his arms, “this is unbelieveable. Can I see it?”

“Maybe, if we get out of here… anyway, so the key we’re looking for looks like one of these.” Clara held the keys up, jangling them, looking at the others.

“I don’t suppose one of those fits the lock?” Francis asked, laughing, “would save us an awful lot of time if it did.”

“Yes,” said Clara sarcastically, humouring him for a moment, “of course my flat key from over one thousand years ago will fit,” she put it towards the lock, finding it unable to be pushed in, aiming him a smug glance.

“OK, OK,” Francis held up his hands in surrender, “point taken.” He disappeared down an aisle to her left resume searching.

Kodey and Leon chuckled to themselves, walking off to the right.

Clara smiled to herself, knowing it had been a stupid idea to try her flat key, deciding that she would try the TARDIS key just to prove how ridiculous idea it had been, finding it slipped easily into the lock. She gasped with surprise, retrieving the key and slotting it back in again to make sure she wasn’t imagining it. 

“Wow,” she breathed out, smiling at the ceiling, “thank you.” Clara took a deep breath before turning the key to the right ninety degrees, feeling the lock move effortlessly. “Yes!” she leant forward and banged her head loudly on the hatch, doing a mini fist pump to herself, pulling away to laugh incredulous.

“Err… everyone,” Clara said loudly to the room, “the one thousand year old key to my flat? Completely useless. However, the millennia old key to a stolen time machine stuck as an American diner from the planet Gallifrey?” She smiled to herself, holding out her hand, pointing, “that… that fits perfectly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... what's in the hatch?
> 
> :-)
> 
> (Also, whoever DanceActLove03 is over at FF... you are really making me laugh with your reviews. Haha. Bet you can't wait for the next chapter!)
> 
> I've also set up a twitter account for this series, give @ClaraAndMe_AIT a follow if you want to follow my trials and tribulations writing this beast lol


	60. Chapter 60

“No freaking way,” said Francis, eyes wide in anticipation as he jogged back.

“How… how…” Leon struggled to get words out, moving his hand between pointing at the lock and stroking his beard, “how?”

“I don’t know,” Clara shook her head, smiling, “I really… don’t know. Anyone in any doubt that this is where we should be?”

Francis shook his head to Clara’s left, perplexed.

“If I didn’t already believe you,” Leon said, surprised, “I would now.”

“How did the key to that lock end up in your pocket?” Kodey asked, rubbing his head. “I don’t understand.”

“I wish I knew how someone got this key to reverse engineer a lock out of it,” Clara sighed, “I’m just as confused as all of you, but anyway,” her  
eyes widened as she turned the lock and opened the grey hatch to the right outwards with a loud metallic squeak, pulling out the key to replace it in her pocket for safekeeping, “what’s in here?

The inside was illuminated by a small lightbulb that flickered on as the cover opened fully. It revealed a grey electric panel, one foot wide and tall, with a grey metal black plastic coated lever set to the left under a white label with black lettering that said ‘OFF’, the ‘ON’ point to the right. To the right of the lever were two clear glass tubes filled with yellow liquid that disappeared off away into the wall. Resting beneath the box on a small ledge were two beige waxed paper envelopes. The first smaller one immediately in front said ‘Clara’ in flowing handwriting, the one behind, twice the size, was labelled ‘Code Black Response’.

“OK,” said Clara standing back with her arms folded, “this is weird.” She tapped the glass tubing with her right index fingernail and watched as a few bubbles in the liquid settled.

“Why is that in here?” Leon creased his eyebrows and moved to pick up the second envelope when Clara stopped him with her right arm against his chest.

“Wait,” Clara said, pulling the sunglasses out of her collar and putting them on, “let’s see what this is first.” She scanned the liquid, seeing building schematics flash over the lenses.

“What is that stuff?” Francis asked, leaning in for a closer look.

The sunglasses displayed a picture of a fire sprinkler and a large green tick.

“I don’t know,” Clara removed the glasses and replaced them into her left jacket pocket, still confused, “but it is definitely the same liquid that’s inside the fire sprinklers, the colour would make me assume it’s-”

“Isn’t that the antidote?” Kodey said loudly, “oh my god! That’s the antidote isn’t it? The antidote was yellow wasn’t it?” 

“We don’t know that for sure,” said Francis.

“I only know two liquids that are that of shade yellow,” Clara said blankly as she put her right index knuckle up to her lips, debating what to do next, “and I really hope for our sake now it’s not the other one.” She put her hand onto the smooth melted plastic of the lever, pausing to contemplate for a second, rotating it right with a large amount of effort and a resounding clunk to the ‘ON’ position.

Clara released the lever after keeping her hand on it for a few seconds, watching as a few bubbles appeared in the glass tubing to the right.

There was an elongated silence around the room whilst they waited for something to happen.

“Why isn’t it working?” Kodey asked after a minute inspecting the mechanism. He tugged the lever to see if it would go any further to the right.

“I don’t know,” Clara said as she turned around, folding her arms and walking with short footprints to the nearest sprinkler head above her in the middle of the room. She stared at it intently, edging closer, standing fifteen feet away from the others.

“Maybe it doesn’t turn those on?” Leon thought out loud, also putting his hand on the lever to make sure it was fully engaged. “Maybe it’s for something else?”

A continuous quiet hiss permeated the silence in the room, beginning to increase in volume.

“Is that thing spraying something?” enquired Francis, standing a little further back.

“It would appear so,” Clara grinned, holding out her palm to find it coated in a harmless very fine damp mist, turning back to face the group, hands on her hips more than a little relieved she wasn’t soaked. “So then,” she clasped her hands together, addressing the group, “now we’ve done that-”

The sprinkler fully engaged, expelling a large amount of liquid which effectively drenched her instantly from head to toe. She couldn’t gauge the temperature but she immediately felt incredibly uncomfortable.

“Oh, for god’s sake! Seriously?!” Clara shouted loudly at the sprinkler unable to move away quick enough, unconsciously turning around to face the stream. She raised her shoulders and held her hands out, unable to stop the flow of water directed at her. She resigned quickly to the fact she was now dripping wet as the shower of liquid subsided after thirty seconds. Clara brought her left jacket cuff to her nose, sniffing, more than slightly relieved to find it was odourless. She brushed the hair away from her eyes, completely soaked, wiping off her face.

Kodey, Francis and Leon were for the most bone dry. Francis wiped a few residual droplets off the left sleeve of his torn green jacket, smirking widely, not making eye contact with Clara.

“Well, that’s just great,” Clara sarcastically through gritted teeth, dropping her arms down onto her body with an audible slopping noise. She groaned loudly and stormed pointedly towards the open hatch, Francis on her left, Kodey and Leon on her right, snatching the envelope with her name on it, spinning on her left heel and pacing away, leaving a trail of liquid in her wake.

“Captain?” asked Trudi, noticing Clara’s state as she emerged into the first room, looking at her meerkat like from behind the desk, “what happened?”

“Don’t ask.” Clara snapped angrily and stood in front of a six foot metal bench to her left opposite the control deck, throwing the envelope down as she wrung out her hair as much as she could, watching the drips of liquid pool on the metal floor. 

“OK then,” Trudi disappeared out of sight swiftly, a trace of a smile on her lips.

Clara ran her right hand over her head to separate the strands of hair and move it off her face, sitting on the bench and leaning back against the wall behind very annoyed.

“I’m sorry, but this is too funny,” Francis appeared, trying to contain a snigger. “Bit wet are you?” He sat on a dusty leather rotating chair opposite, leaning back and threading his fingers on front of his chest.

Clara ignored him, aiming a narrow stare at the floor as she removed her jacket with some difficulty, finding it stuck completely to her skin in places, slopping it onto the bench to her right once she wrestled it free.

Kodey stepped over the foot high threshold, followed by Leon holding the second of the envelopes. They exchanged a look that indicated they had been laughing.

Clara picked up the small envelope and moved it in between her hands. The paper was waxy, almost as if it were plastic coated. She didn’t recognise the handwriting and there were no obvious markers or stamps. She held it up to the light, unable to glean any more information. She carefully opened the envelope from the back, revealing a handwritten letter on identical paper, folded once.

“What’s it say?” asked Francis, moving to sit up on the edge of the dusty chair to peer over. Trudi emerged from behind the control deck, her interest suitably piqued, looking over Clara’s left shoulder.

Clara discarded the empty envelope to her right onto top of her jacket as she cleared her throat.

“Dear Clara,” she read out the neat slanted handwriting, “I trust this has found you at the right time. First of all, let me apologise-” she stopped, having seen what was written next. She rolled her eyes and sighed loudly, dropping the letter on to her lap.

“What?” said Leon, moving closer.

“First of all,” Clara repeated through slightly gritted teeth, lifting the paper, “let me apologise…” she paused, knowing what would happen when she continued slowly, “about… your… hair.”

“What?” said Francis, eyes glinting, a wide smirk appearing on his face.

“Your hair?” Trudi asked, stifling a snigger.

“That sprinkler has always been broken and I never did get around to fixing it, but fear not,” Clara continued reading trying to ignore various glances and muted laughter around the room, “I am fairly certain that there will not be any permanent damage.” Clara shook her head tightly, “it should recover within the next week or so. Or not. Or you might be blonde for the rest of your existence. Who knows?”

Leon failed to contain a loud laugh, having to support himself against the control panel.

“Great,” Clara said sarcastically under her breath. “Even this letter is having a go at me!”

“What else does it say?” asked Francis, sniggering. “And there’s nothing wrong with being blonde.”

“Anyway, if you have discovered this letter,” Clara continued reading, annoyed, “you will have seen the very large lever above it. You have just released the antidote to every area of the structure without anyone knowing-”

“So it is the antidote!” exclaimed Kodey. “Yes! My family! My family are saved!” He half hugged Leon to his right. “And your friend!”

“Hang on,” Clara waited for Kodey to finish before starting again. “it says here it will take six hours to cure everyone in here…” she pointed at the letter, before continuing to read, “so hopefully you have released it before 6pm. Anyone?” Clara asked, looking around, “what’s the time?” 

Francis looked at his watch, adjusting it on his wrist, “17.07pm.”

“OK,” Clara nodded, “just in time, eh?” she allowed herself a small smile. “You, Francis and Kodey now need to travel to NR2 to disable the first nuclear reactor-”

“The… first… nuclear reactor?” Francis interrupted, running a hand through his blonde hair.

“Yeah,” Leon hung his head, holding the larger envelope against his chest, “there’s two.”

“And how are we supposed to do that?” Kodey asked. “Does it say?” he pointed at the letter.

Clara read ahead and shook her head tightly. “Once you have left, Leon and Trudi have got specific instructions on what they need to do in order to organise the CBR. Err,” Clara paused, creasing her eyebrows, “what’s the CBR?”

“Code Black Response,” Trudi volunteered, tilting her head.

“Oh… yes of course,” Clara said in agreement. “Good luck and remember, when you think you have tried everything… the answer is always staring you in the face.”

“Staring you in the face?” Trudi asked with a raised eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

“Staring you in the face,” Clara re-read quietly, “little bit vague,” she reflected.

“Who does it say it is from?” Kodey asked, moving a few paces forward, pulling up the sleeves of his red jumper past his elbows.

“A friend,” Clara read at the bottom, pausing before casting her eyes over the last line. She groaned out loud.

“What?” asked Trudi, leaning as far as she could over Clara’s left shoulder. She inspected the writing and pulled away, letting out a small laugh.

“Trudi?” said Leon, “what is it?”

Clara inhaled slowly. “P.S.,” she paused, “if you are going to save everyone in here you might want to fix your make-up as well, just an idea.” She leant backwards and hit her head loudly on the wall behind her, dropping the letter onto her lap.

Francis, Kodey and Leon all burst into advanced stages of laughter before Clara aimed a narrow glare at each of them in turn.

“To be fair,” Francis said, with a grin, “whoever wrote that letter has a point,” waving his hand around his face.

Clara ignored him and reread the letter again to try and see if there was anything she had missed.

 

Dear Clara,  
I trust this has found you at the right time.  
First of all, let me apologise about your hair. That sprinkler has always been broken and I never did get around to fixing it, but fear not, I am fairly certain there will not be any permanent damage. It should recover within the next week or so. Or not. Or you might be blonde for the rest of your non-life. Who knows?  
Anyway, if you have discovered this letter you will have seen the large lever above it. You have just released the antidote to every area of the structure without anyone knowing. It will take six hours to cure everyone in here so hopefully you have released it before 6pm.  
You, Francis and Kodey now need to travel to NR2 to disable the first nuclear reactor. Once you have left, Leon and Trudi have got specific instructions on what they need to do in order to organise the CBR.  
Good luck and remember, when you think you have tried everything… the answer is always staring you in the face.

A friend.

P.S. if you are going to save everyone in here you might want to fix your make-up as well, just an idea.

 

Clara turned the letter over to check if there was anything else written on the other side, finding only beige waxed paper. She wondered who had written it and how it had got inside the hatch.

"Can I have a look?" Trudi asked, pointing at the letter. Clara handed it over nonchalantly and watched as Trudi held the opaque paper up to the nearest light. "No watermark," she brought it down, inspecting the back of the letter. “And this paper is old…” she felt the letter between her fingertips, “very old. Three hundred years old… old.”

"Well," Francis said with a slight smirk, reading over Trudi's shoulder, "at least we can rule out one person."

"And who's that?" Clara asked, a little confused, lifting her head wearily to look vaguely in his direction before realising from his facial expression he meant Ashildr. "Oh," Clara nodded, leaning back against the wall.

"But whoever wrote this," Leon retrieved the letter from Trudi, stuffing the larger envelope under his left arm, "seems to know you very well and knew our names," he looked around the room suspiciously. "We only met a few hours ago!"

"I know," said Clara weakly, "I know. I have no idea either."

"Shouldn't we go?" said Kodey, pacing towards the outer door, saying quickly, "the letter said we have to go and disable the reactor and once we've done that we can go and find my family and -"

"Stop panicking," Clara interrupted. She reluctantly stood and picked up her jacket, the liquid visually and audibly dripping off the surface of the black leather onto the floor. "I do need to stop wearing my best stuff during these things," she mused, "don't I?" She contorted her face into a grimace, reflecting that although her jacket was sopping wet at least she would not experience it being cold. She was beginning to feel mentally exhausted.

"So what's the plan?" asked Francis.

"Oh my god," Clara snapped unintentionally, subconsciously raising her right hand to her forehead, "if anyone in here asks me what the plan is one more time," she threatened at an increasing volume before noticing Sky shift in the brown chair. She stopped to exhale. 

"That's it, I give up." Clara threw up her hands, "I do not have a plan. If I did have a plan I would be doing the plan right now, so in the absence of a plan I've just been being really vague and trying to keep up our spirits and pretending I know what I'm doing," she paused for breath, ignoring the blank looks flying around the room, putting her right arm into the sleeve of her soaking jacket as she spoke. 

"So right now I am just going to do exactly what this very conveniently placed mysterious yet somehow oddly sarcastic letter is telling me to," she settled her coat on the left arm, "and take Francis and Kodey with me to the reactor and continue blundering along until something else equally random or weird happens." Clara paused for breath again, straightening her uneven collar and untucking a few strands of errant hair, grimacing, running her hands through the now matted mess. She aimed a narrow stare at the video screens as she finger combed her hair nonchalantly, deliberately being silent to get her point across.

Leon inspected the envelope he was holding, resisting the temptation to open it for fear of being the one to break the silence.

Francis was stood with his mouth slightly open, shrugging at Kodey.

"I have to be honest with you," Trudi risked thirty seconds Clara had finished her tirade, "what you've just said sounds a lot like an actual plan."

“I cannot believe-” Clara was prepared to snap back into another assault quickly, but stopped herself once she decided that Trudi had made a very valid point. She laughed to herself once, realising how overly dramatic she had been. “Yeah… it does, doesn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So who is that mysterious letter from?
> 
> Thank you all so much for supporting this story... I hope everyone is getting excited about the ending?
> 
> If you want to find out more, chat get updates and share your theories, I've set up a twitter account for this series, so give @ClaraAndMe_AIT a follow :-)


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience everyone!!
> 
> If you want updates etc, give my twitter for this series @ClaraAndMe_AIT a follow. I may have posted a massive plot spoiler on a photo of some my prep notes yesterday, I wonder if anyone will find it?
> 
> :-)

“I’m sorry,” Clara apologised quietly after a minute of inspecting her fingernails.

“It’s OK,” said Trudi, walking slowly over and holding her arms out to Clara, “it’s a difficult situation for all of us. You look like you need a hug.”

Clara felt like she wanted to cry but managed to retain her composure as she hugged Trudi tightly. “I can’t do this,” she said weakly.

“Yes, you can,” Trudi rubbed Clara’s back gently, “there’s five people in this room that would say otherwise.”

Clara laughed lightly, enjoying the hug. “Thank you…” she paused before pulling away, “I needed that.”

“You’re welcome,” Trudi said, rubbing Clara’s right shoulder, smiling at her and then turning around to disappear back behind the control desk.

“We should get going,” Clara pointed at the door, dabbing the corner of her eye with the back of her palm, now feeling a little renewed. She paused as a thought occurred to her. “Hang on,” Clara put her fingers to her lips, “didn’t Ashildr say that the Russian man was going to NR something?”

“Yes,” said Kodey, looking over, “she did.”

“Why would they be heading to the nuclear reactors?” Clara asked as they prepared to leave. “They don’t sound like they are planning to die in here so why go there? I thought there was only one way in and out of this place?”

“There is…” Leon paused, “but…”

“But what?” Clara raised an eyebrow.

“Each one of the reactors has an escape pod,” Trudi explained, “in case we have to manually detonate.”

“That would explain why the Russian guy would be prowling around,” Clara nodded, feeling as if a jigsaw puzzle piece had slotted into place in her head. “The rest of them, the woman and the boy, umm, Delta and Mike, they are still at the operations centre though, aren’t they?”

“When they spoke to us they were, the reactors are white inside,” Trudi said from behind the console, not emerging.

Leon opened the top of the envelope he was holding and pulled out the stack of papers inside. He read the first couple of lines before replacing the sheets, trying to mask his surprised expression as he took a heavy gulp.

“Can you contact the reactors from here?” Clara pointed at the bank of video screens.

“Should be able to if I can get them working,” Trudi said, straining as she stripped the end of a thick blue electrical wire bare with a penknife. “It’s like the person who built this never actually turned it on.”

“How long will it take?” Clara asked, peering over to see Trudi amongst a mess of wires in every colour that reminded her of spaghetti. “Wow, OK, I’ll just leave you to,” she waved her hand in the direction of the wires, “that,” she said, letting out a low whistle.

Kodey moved to Clara’s left and put his right palm onto the console top. “Rather you than me,” he observed, “I’m on a day off.”

“I just need to reconnect the server wires,” Trudi stood up and folded her arms, scratching her forehead, “maybe half an hour, I don’t know.”

“We should go,” said Clara to Kodey and Francis, “sounds like we do not have any time to waste.”

“What about her?” asked Kodey, pointing to Sky, still fast asleep on the chair sucking her thumb.

“Is a nuclear reactor is the best place for a five year old?” Clara mused.

“We’ll look after her,” said Leon, folding his arms to hold the larger envelope against his chest.

“What does it say in there?” Clara asked without focussing on Leon, having noticed him take a sneaky look inside the envelope.

“Oh… umm…” Leon paused, realising it would probably be better to tell something resembling the truth rather than lie, dropping his head, “it said I should wait until you leave and-” he stopped. 

“And?” Clara raised an eyebrow, watching him, moving closer.

“And…” Leon continued slowly, “that Sky should stay with us and-”

“And?” Clara asked again, folding her arms.

“Umm,” Leon swallowed heavily, “that I should tell you the nuclear reactor…” he cleared his throat, “will not turn itself off and…“ 

“Yes?” Clara sighed.

“That you should stop being so melodramatic.” Leon aimed his gaze up to the ceiling.

“What?” Clara said blankly, trying and failing to contain her annoyance that Leon was clearly hiding something from her. She started to say something, wanting to snatch the envelope but stopped herself, instead deciding to fold her arms, exhale loudly and pace to the door. “We should probably go then, shouldn’t we?”

“Yes,” said Francis, spinning his sliver watch on his wrist, grinning to himself.

“OK, well, umm,” Clara paused, knowing she should saying something inspirational, “I guess we’ll see you later? Or not. Who knows?” she laughed.

“Have fun in the reactor,” Trudi said blankly.

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s going to be right up there in my exciting days out list,” Clara said sarcastically, holding her right hand up to her head briefly. “Next time, if you’re looking for ideas,” she tilted her head with a one-sided smile, “maybe I could recommend a relaxing afternoon tea or a sun-drenched beer garden. Shall we?” she said to Kodey and Francis.

Francis operated the mechanism and the hatch door swung open.

“Good luck everyone,” Clara said out loud. She closed the heavy green door behind her once she, Kodey and Francis had left, leaving Trudi, Kodey and Sky in the records archive.

The door clunked loudly from the other side.

Clara paused, having calmed down as she folded up the letter a few times and put it into her left pocket, trying to remember which way they had come, pointing to her left. She set off with her hands in her jacket with short sharp footsteps. 

“I am sorry for snapping at you,” Clara directed at Francis, “it wasn’t personal… I’m just tired and mentally exhausted-”

“No worries,” Francis smiled back at her, “I have four sisters, I know what you Sheilas are like. No hard feelings eh?”

“Thanks,” Clara said, relieved she had cleared the air somewhat.

“You know,” said Kodey, jogging after her slightly, “just because that letter told us what to do doesn’t mean we have to do it. Maybe you should let me go and I can go and find my family.”

Clara nodded in slight agreement. “I suppose that is an option, but whoever it was that wrote this letter seems to know what they are talking about, so I’m inclined to do as it says and it’s probably best if you don’t go wandering around out…” she paused, thinking where to point to indicate the centre, settling on the ceiling, “there on your own.”

“An old letter with our names on,” Francis said to Clara’s left as they progressed down the passageway, “that is blowing my mind. Who do you think wrote it?”

“I wish I knew,” Clara said, looking left and right at the end of the corridor. “It’s really annoying. Whoever wrote these letters is really annoying. And sarcastic. And thinks that I’m melodramatic.”

“To be fair, they do have a point,” Francis pointed towards the right, having remembered the directions to the transmission area. “This way.”

“So we need to get ourselves to NR2,” Clara said out loud ignoring him, “and from there I don’t know… look out for another mysterious old letter or a door with one of our names on I guess? There is definitely something or someone that is helping us, isn’t there? I just wish I knew who or what it was,” she sighed. “What I do know is that when I find who or what they will get a hug or a slap. Or both.”

They continued walking for a few minutes contemplating what was happening until the transmission area appeared on their left.

“Everyone know where we are going?” Clara asked. She dug out the letter from her left pocket to double check, “it definitely says,” she read down, “NR2.” She replaced it to her pocket.

Kodey nodded. “NR2, got it.”

“Who’s up first?” Francis smiled widely.

“Let me go,” said Clara, some nerves beginning to surface, “get it over with, and if I am sick at least no-one will have to see it,” she mused. She approached the door and it swooshed open, “see you on the other side,” she called out as it closed behind her.

‘Please scan your tag,’ the now familiar mechanical voice boomed above her in the bright green small room. Clara scanned her hand in the slot to her immediate right.

‘Thank you. Please state your destination,’ the disembodied voice said.

“NR2,” said Clara as loudly as her nerves would allow.

‘Thank you, please remove your tag and enter transmission area.’

Clara took a sharp intake of breath and sprinted into the narrow corridor, feeling her body being pulled into the walls and then swiftly kicked forward with a pain that was much more severe than she had remembered. She emerged running into a clinical white space that was so brightly lit it immediately made her retinas ache. Her eyes adjusted to the almost fluorescent glow of the small bright spotlights above as a wave of nausea began to wash over her as she successfully managed to stay upright. 

The room was thirty feet high and wide, every surface was dull polished white marble, reflecting the lighting like a mirror in all directions. A large bank vault style door covered the entire far wall with three silver wheel mechanisms interspersed equidistantly along the length. Two large cylindrical support pillars were either side of the space. On the right were walkways heading to a transmission door.

Clara’s gaze immediately began to focus on a contrasting black object on the far left corner as she fought the unmistakable taste of bile rising at the back of her throat, freezing as she realised the shape was that of a human body. The large frame was sat facing the vault door away from her direction, slumped backwards on a small box against the large white pillar on the left. The shock seemed to be counteracting the nausea, leaving her planted to the spot, unsure what to do. Clara swallowed heavily, relieved she was able to fight back being sick.

Kodey emerged behind her in hurried footsteps, crashing into the back of her halfway down the walkway.

“What are you-” he said loudly, squinting at the harsh light as Clara put out her left arm to stop him progressing forward, “oh,” he whispered.

Clara held up her right index finger to her lips, indicating for Kodey to be quiet. Kodey nodded back at her, taking stock of their new surroundings.

Francis strolled casually out into the space, barely batting an eyelid at the intense white light as Clara restricted his progress. “Watch out!” he said.

“Shh!” Clara said in a harsh whisper, holding his left arm with her right hand as she observed the black figure for a minute. She held her position before tentatively taking a quiet step forward.

The black figure came into view from the front as Clara progressed, encouraging Kodey and Francis to follow silently behind her. It was a guard, dressed head to toe in black, a machine gun slung diagonally across his left shoulder and the right hand lying limply at his side down to the floor.

“Is he dead?” whispered Kodey quietly into her left ear as they edged nearer.

Clara shrugged and tiptoed forward, tilting her head and keeping her eyes trained on the guard for any sudden movement.

The guard grunted loudly, permeating the silence in the small space, inhaling slowly. 

Francis and Kodey stood still in shock.

A loud exhale was followed by the unmistakable sound of gruff snoring.

Clara watched his chest rise and fall, immediately knowing that he wasn’t dead. She looked at the others with wide eyes, putting her hands together and putting them up to her right cheek to indicate the guard was in fact, asleep.

Francis nodded back at her, flashing a wide smile to her right.

There were a shiny silver pair of handcuffs visible on the guard’s right hip as Clara drew nearer, taking care to make sure her steps were as quiet as possible.

“What do we do?” whispered Kodey.

Clara paused to think for a moment as she risked another pace forward, leaving herself six feet away from him on her left. She wondered if it would be feasible to get the gun away to reduce the risk of being shot, noticing it might be able to be hooked off his body. “The gun,” she mouthed to the others, making a hand signal with her right hand.

Francis nodded and tiptoed quietly across the white floor in his grey shoes, wincing every time he took a step.

Clara drew level and surveyed the positioning of the black metal machine gun on the guard’s lap, currently not in contact with either of his hands. Clara saw a way she could unclip the strap from the stock end and then gently lift the gun away and decided to go for it.

Kodey and Francis watched behind as Clara carefully moved her hand towards a black metal carabiner, unscrewing the gnarled silver clasp as slowly as she dared to release the catch before unclipping it entirely. She did a thumbs up to the others and then reached tentatively for the main body of the machine gun.

The guard groaned a little and licked his lips as her right hand made contact, causing her to instantly retreat. His right hand scratched his cheek and then rested back on the stock of the gun momentarily before flopping ungracefully off his large frame down towards the floor.

Clara left it for a few seconds and then took another attempt, this time successfully retrieving the weapon and inching the other end of the black fabric strap carefully behind the guard’s body until it was completely free. She allowed herself a silent fist pump and a triumphant wide eyed grin as she was able to take a pace backwards. She reconnected the carabiner clip, twisted the clasp and slung it casually over her own right shoulder, immediately feeling relieved it was in her possession now and not the guard’s.

“Should we kill him?” said Francis whispered nervously in her right ear.

Clara shook her head tightly. “No,” she replied quietly.

Kodey thought for a moment and then moved forward on Clara’s left to approach the guard before she could stop him, unsnapping the handcuffs from their housing with the smallest of clicks as he pulled back away.

“What are you doing?” Clara mouthed, noticing the guard was still completely oblivious.

“I was going to cuff him to the column,” Kodey whispered and pointed, crouching down to align one cuff around the wrist of the guard’s right hand. He clicked the widest setting of the metal handcuffs into position, waiting to see if there was any reaction. Kodey repeated this process to tighten the cuff without any stirring from the guard at all.

Clara quietly watched as Kodey slowly positioned the guard’s arm behind the large white ceiling column.

“Francis,” Kodey said, waving at him, trying to get his attention, “hold this.”

Francis moved over and held the cuff in position as Kodey gently contorted the guard’s left arm, perplexed that it was not eliciting any response at all. Kodey clicked the left cuff into position leaving the sleeping guard surrounding the solid white column with no way of escaping. Kodey prowled around to the front and lifted the black woollen balaclava up from his chin and folded it over the eyes, leaving him effectively blindfolded.

Clara couldn’t help but be impressed, raising her eyebrows at Kodey with a smile. She moved towards the large vault door, inspecting each of the three rotating wheels silently. A peephole containing a large number was visible above each of the silver wheels. They spun around freely in both directions, the number changing with every few rotations, reminding Clara of a penny press machine.

The guard groaned gently again, rattling the handcuffs slightly before beginning to snore in the manner of a large growling pig.

Clara rolled her eyes to herself, unable to see any obvious keypads or any way in other than using the wheels. She put on the sunglasses and let them scan the mechanisms. They eventually displayed the numbers 965 and a large white arrow pointing to the right. She removed the sunglasses to top of her head as she waved Kodey and Francis, standing on the opposite side of the room, over to the silver wheels.

Francis looked around the middle wheel, inspecting the ceiling and floor around him. He put his hands on the wheel as if he were steering a ship.

Clara pointed to the right and then used her fingers to silently indicate the number six.

Francis looked perplexed, rotating the wheel easily, realising the number changed he nodded to himself and continued.

Kodey began to walk in her direction, stopping when Clara held out her right palm to indicate the number five. He turned to the furthest wheel and spun the mechanism quickly with one hand, letting it rumble on unaided.

Clara moved the wheel clockwise about ten or fifteen rotations until the black number nine was squarely into the box above. She looked towards Kodey and Francis, watching them waiting for her to finish. She stood back, expecting something to happen, quickly reaching for the sonic sunglasses again when the room remained silent. The arrow was still visible on the right lens, it mutated into a three clockwise round shapes in front of her eyes.

Francis stepped silently towards her, Kodey appeared over his left shoulder, confused as to what to do.

A resounding mechanical clunk echoed around the small space, loud enough to send Clara’s gaze immediately to the sleeping guard. He remained motionless much to her surprise, continuing to snore heavily.

“I think,“ Clara began to whisper quietly, “we need to-“

Another identical noise interrupted her, this time causing the guard to shake himself upright and stop snoring.

Clara put her right index finger up to her lips and looked at the others, waiting to see how the guard would react as she anticipated more noises, hearing a third clang resonate several seconds later.

The guard remained upright, silent to the point where Clara was beginning to worry that he had stopped breathing. She expected more noises but internally breathed a sigh of relief when an enduring silence rung out around the space and the guard’s head lolled back to the side, accompanied by the now familiar snore.

After a moment Clara gathered Kodey around her, pushing the sunglasses up onto her head. “I think,” she lowered her voice to a breathy whisper, pointing at the vault door, “we all have to turn the wheels to the right at the same time. Understood?”

Kodey and Francis nodded in agreement and returned to the door, Kodey on the far right, Francis in the middle and Clara on the left, each of them eight feet apart, too far to reach two wheels at once.

Clara watched Francis, nodding at him, craning her neck backwards to orchestrate Kodey with a tilt of her head as they began turning the wheels to the right. Clara noticed the effortless movement of the mechanism was now replaced with something that required a large amount of force to turn, accompanied by the ragged metallic noise of a heavy object being moved. Clara strained to turn the wheel, heaving it the right until it came to a sudden stop.

Francis took a step backwards. Kodey tried to force the rotation further to see if he had done enough.

Clara took her hands off the chrome metal, carefully picking up the machine gun in her hands, hovering her right index finger over the trigger and watched as the wheel and the surface it was attached to retreated away from her three feet, lifting away and up. Clara tracked the movement with just her eyes as it revealed a smooth walled white corridor that disappeared off into the distance.

Kodey tentatively took a step forward once it had fully opened towards the ceiling and settled, aiming his gaze at the ceiling. The noise stopped, still having not woken the guard, his head drooping.

Francis and Clara looked at each other before following inside, Clara’s boots tapped gently on the smooth white marble. She adjusted the machine gun in her hands, not putting it down until it was clear there was nothing other than walls and floor spread out in front of them.

The ceiling began to lower once they had passed over the threshold line. Clara instinctively jogged forward a few paces to put herself out of the door’s rapidly accelerating downward trajectory. It sealed loudly behind her in the same way it had opened.

“Can I just say? That guard…” Clara said at normal volume, pausing, leaning back against the identical door with three silver wheels that had slotted into to place, “is rubbish.” Her voice echoed around her as she dropped the gun onto its strap.

“Dead set, useless as an ashtray on a motorbike,” Francis laughed. He put his hands on his hips and strode a few paces away.

Clara creased her eyebrows playfully, not moving, saying to Kodey. “Why would anyone want an ashtray on a motorbike?”

“I don’t know,” Kodey shrugged, looking around. He crouched down and inspected a few darker markings and indents on the floor in front of his trainers before standing up and blowing into his hands.

“Seriously though,” Clara mused quietly, “they really need to sort out their security.” She moved herself up off the door reluctantly, running her hands through her destroyed matted hair and holding it in a rough ponytail towards her right shoulder in an effort to make it tidy. She took the sunglasses off her head and replaces them into her collar.

“Looks like we’re in for another long walk,” Francis said loud enough to resonate a few times in the distance. He did up the buttons of his ripped green jacket, raising up the collar to his neck.

Kodey pulled down the sleeves of his gnarled red jumper and wrapped his arms around his body.

“What’s the matter?” Clara smiled, adjusting the gun on her back by slinging it diagonally as she met Francis and they began walking.

“Can’t you feel how cold it is?” Francis asked. “Strewth.”

“No, I can’t,” Clara said pointing to herself, “it told you, no hot or cold.”

“Very lucky,” Kodey said, “I feel like I am being frozen.”

“We’d best get moving then,” Clara said with enthusiasm, pointing to what easily looked like a walkway that it carried on into infinity

“Yeah,” sighed Kodey, dropping his head, following behind.

They walked along in silence for what felt like hours, until the floor gradually began to slope downwards, the completely non-descript smooth walls beginning to loom ominously all around. The walkway curved gradually to the right for a while and then to the left further on.

“How long have we been walking for?” Clara asked some time later, absolutely positive the walls on every side were closer to her than they had been at the entrance.

“About forty-five minutes,” Francis said as he checked his watch, “it’s half past six.”

“We haven’t seen anything for miles,” Clara groaned, “have we? Do people really walk this far to come in here?”

“There were some indents in the floor where we came in,” Kodey remembered, “maybe they have one of those pods, you know, Francis? Like the one you were driving?”

“It’s possible,” he nodded.

Clara stared straight ahead when something caught her eye, a tiny black speck in the distance. She shook her head, convinced that she was imagining it, in the same way that a mirage appeared to a dehydrated person stranded in the desert. She rubbed her eyes, noticing makeup smeared over her knuckles afterwards, continuing to walk with her hands in her pockets, looking at the floor.

“Guys,” Francis said, a couple of minutes later, “is anyone else seeing that?” He pointed in front of them.

Clara gazed forward, noticing there was a vague shape she was currently unable to make out a few hundred metres in the distance. “Yes!” she exclaimed. “I thought I saw something just now!”

“What is it?” asked Kodey, squinting his eyes.

Clara watched the object grow in size the closer they got, she was able to make out first it was boxy, then that it was black with four wheels and finally that it appeared to be very similar to a golf cart.

“A transporter!” shouted Francis loudly, breaking into a light jog to reach it as they got within fifty metres.

“I knew it,” said Kodey, not following Francis, choosing to stay alongside Clara at a leisurely walk. “At least this means we won’t have to walk back,” he laughed gently.

“Yeah,” Clara said as they approached the discarded transporter. “If I never walk anywhere again after today it will be too soon,” Clara tilted her head, smiling, “can you please remind me to make my next stop a sunbed on a beach in the Bahamas when this is all over?”

“Where is… Theba Haamas?” Kodey asked, struggling with the pronunciation. “Is that a planet?”

“No, it’s a place… umm…” Clara paused, trying to think if she actually knew where it was geographically, realising she did not, “somewhere hot, near the equator, very beachy, blue sea and lots of ice cold highly alcoholic cocktails.”

“It is on earth?” Kodey asked.

“Yes,” Clara said vaguely, “it’s umm… an island there.”

The transporter was parked diagonally having left four twelve feet long black smudges on the ground where the rubber tyres had clearly skidded to a halt. To the right was a passageway, twenty feet wide which turned off to the left a little further down.

“This is ancient,” Francis said, sitting in the black moulded plastic driver’s seat, finding the round green ignition button between the chairs, “and whoever was driving parked it like they flogged it.” He turned on the motor and it spluttered to life with a louder than expected growl after a few seconds.

Clara approached the transporter and held onto the black metal side, leaning in to see if there was anything hiding under any of the four seats, finding only what she could only assume was several years’ worth of residual dust. She grimaced and pulled away.

“At least it works,” Francis said as he turned off the transporter, getting out. He stared into the distance, down the continuing spotless white corridor.

Clara turned her attention to the first passageway they had seen since entering from the transmission area. It was made of identical white marble and lead off perpendicularly, lit by the same intoxicatingly bright tone. She walked the fifty metres, knowing Kodey and Francis were following as she could hear the tap of shoes and the squeak of trainers. Clara approached the corner and edged up to the wall, holding Kodey with her right arm. She put her back to wall, forgetting she was carrying the machine gun as it clattered loudly against the marble behind her.

Francis caught her eye and raised an eyebrow.

Clara ignored him and risked a quick glance around the edge, realising with relief it was an empty square space containing only a normal sized door with a red light above it at the far end and otherwise unremarkable.

“Nothing to be afraid of,” Clara said, walking confidently around the corner, “just a door.” Clara ran her hand along the smooth marble next to her with her left hand as she approached the small white entryway.

Kodey inspected the frame of the door, standing staring at red light above, rubbing his chin.

Francis put his hands on his hips, standing square in the middle of the alcove, eyes examining every surface.

“Well, there’s no way we are getting into this,” Kodey said, moving his palm along the smooth white metal of the door, “this is time lock sealed.” He pointed at the red light above.

“Time lock sealed?” Clara asked, confused, reaching for the sunglasses and putting them on. “What’s that?” They flashed a red ‘X’ on the right lens indicating there was nothing that could be done.

“It will only open at a certain time,” Kodey banged his forehead against the door. “The only way we are getting in there is if we wait for it to open again… or blow it open.” 

“So what you’re saying is we’re an hour inside a nuclear reactor,” Clara paused, returning the sunglasses into her collar, aiming her eyes towards the door, “and we need to explode something? I don’t know much about nuclear reactors but even I know that sounds like a bad idea.”

“How would we even do that?” Francis leant back against the wall to Clara’s right. “We haven’t seen anything apart from that transporter since we came in.”

“I guess that means we wait then,” Kodey sighed, lowering his head.

“How long?” asked Francis, checking his watch.

“How long’s a piece of fibre?” Kodey returned back as he moved to the right of the door to sit with his back to the wall, “seconds, hours, days? I don’t know.” He held his head in his hands. “Might even never open again.”

“Double half its length,” Clara offered, knocking on the metal of the door with her right fist.

“Double half its length?” Francis asked, confused, stretching out his neck. “What’s that?”

“The answer to Kodey’s question,” Clara explained, knocking on a different part of the door to see if it changed timbre, “how long’s a piece of fibre, or string where I come from? Double half its length.”

Kodey thought for a second and then laughed once. “Yes, I suppose it is. How do you know that?”

“I used to go out with a Maths teacher,” Clara said as took a pace away from the door to look at the red light, unable to glean any further information from the surroundings.

“Oh really?” Francis grinned.

“Yep,” Clara said blankly, not rising to the challenge.

“What does your paper say?” Kodey asked desperately. “You know, the black paper? It always seems to have the answer.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Clara turned around, knowing they were running out of options as she reached into her right pocket to retrieve the psychic paper, hoping it would provide them a solution, instead finding something else which made her eyes widen and a small smile cover her mouth. She located the psychic paper in her left pocket and pulled it out on a whim to see if it confirmed what she needed to do, having already found one viable solution.

“So?” Kodey asked behind her, “what does it say?”

“Errr,” Clara said, still facing away, opening the wallet to see only beige paper, “it’s blank.”

“What?” said Francis, incredulous. He heaved himself off the wall and peered over her left shoulder.

Clara aimed the paper up so he could see, “it says nothing.”

“What are we going to do?” strained Kodey, “we’re stuck here with no way of getting in. We are all going to die, aren’t we?”

Francis relocated back to his position propping up the wall, running his hands through his blonde hair as he dropped to the floor.

“I guess that’s it then,” Clara smiled to herself, “I mean, yes, we could all sit on the floor and moan about how desperate the situation is,” Clara said blankly retrieving something from her right pocket, “or we could just use this.” She turned around, displaying the grey pulsade between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand like an egg.

“How do you have one those?” Kodey said, immediately raising his head.

“What’s that?” asked Francis.

“A pulsade,” Kodey pointed.

“It was in Charlie’s jacket, remember?” Clara smirked as she threw Kodey the pulsade underarm. “I kept it for just a situation like this, but only just realised.”

Kodey caught it in both his hands, inspecting it before getting quickly to his feet. “This might actually work.”

“New plan,” Clara smirked with a twinkle in her eye, “let’s explode open this door.”

“Is this our only option?” Francis asked, a little unnerved.

“Seems like it,” Clara said, standing close and watching as Kodey rotated the top of the grey pulsade to say ‘1’ on its surface.

Kodey paused, watching Clara and Francis looking at him and changed the number to ‘2’. “Just in case,” he explained.

“What do we do now?” Francis rubbed the side of his neck.

“Now? We move,” Kodey said as he removed the mushroom shaped end cap with the smallest of metallic pings and crouched to put the pulsade on the floor, flat side down against the door. He put the end cap in the pocket of his jeans.

“How far away do we have to be?” Clara asked as they all moved away backwards towards the passageway.

“The transporter,” Kodey said without hesitation.

“The transporter?” said Clara, surprised. “How powerful is that thing?” briskly walking towards the main corridor.

“I guess we’re about to find out,” Francis said, breaking out into a jog to get far enough away.

“We should be fine out here,” Kodey ushered them around the corner as they emerged. “And now we wait.”

Clara looked between Francis and Kodey, before holding on to the corner of the wall, peering around, watching the turning to the left as she waited for the pulsade to explode, unsure of what was about to happen next.


	62. Chapter 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is a bit of a long one...
> 
> I'm trying to keep this fic to 70 chapters, so where I previously would have split this up into slightly smaller parts I am putting them together, I might redress the balance once I've finished, we'll see.
> 
> Enjoy!

Clara saw the bright yellow flash from the explosion before she heard or felt anything happen.

A large amount of debris was pushed to the right from the opening, accompanied by an earthquake style tremor that violently shook every and thundered across every surface around them. The transporter opposite jumped an inch off the floor. A heavy gust of air travelled along the passage and hit Clara’s face, causing her to move to put her back against the wall and protect her head as the bang echoed through the long corridor.

Kodey and Francis held the same position next to her as the initial shock of the pulsade faded into a crunching noise that reflected the amount of rubble that had been displaced.

Clara’s ears rang for a few seconds as the original silence returned. “Is it finished?” she asked, carefully taking her hands away from the side of her head. “Please tell me it has? It’s not going to, like, explode again or something like that, is it?”

“No, unless they’ve modified it,” Kodey nodded.

“At least we’re still here,” Francis smiled, “good onya mate.” He patted Kodey on the back with his right hand.

“Well done everyone for not blowing up a nuclear reactor,” Clara said with a trace of sarcasm, “is something I thought I would never say.”

Clara risked moving to look down the passageway, seeing a collection of white rocks at the end and a fine haze of dust lingering in the air. She moved the gun off her shoulder to hold it properly as Kodey and Francis shifted to her right.

“Why do you always get the weapons?” Francis joked as they progressed.

“I don’t know,” Clara replied with a small smile, “although I do have to admit it is pretty cool poncing around with a big gun.” She moved it in her hands playfully with a small rattle.

The dust and debris was beginning to crunch under the soles of Clara’s black boots as they approached the left turning. She cautiously moved sideways to her right as she looked towards where the door had been minutes earlier.

In the door’s place was now a cut out jagged oval hole and an accompanying three foot deep crater into the marble, fanning out from where Kodey had placed the pulsade. The red light that had been above the door was now hanging limply down by a solitary wire, flashing intermittently as it still had some swinging momentum. Two large dark cracks had appeared either side of the space, meeting in the middle of the ceiling. The blasted out hole revealed an identical white corridor on the other side, the floor scattered with disturbed chunks of marble and twisted metal from the door. A few sparse drips of water and nuggets of rubble dropped from the ceiling above, skittering as they fell. Several sparking electrical wires fizzed as they trailed out of the disturbed ground and fell limply from the large structural cracks overhead.

“Looks like that grenade worked perfectly,” Clara said with a smile, training the gun in front of her, stepping carefully over a large displaced rock, “bit worrying that I was just carrying that around in my pocket… now I wonder what is through here.” 

Clara approached the opening, edging forward, watching her foot placement to ensure she did not trip or twist her ankle. A stray water droplet fell an inch from her face onto the body of the machine gun as they passed under where the cracks met in the ceiling. She progressed through the blown out door, stepping down carefully into the remnants of what used to be the frame, twisted and contorted metal sticking out like razor sharp teeth all around her. She stooped unnecessarily down to avoid the now stationary casing for the red light, knowing she was short enough to easily walk under it, watching her feet as they tried to get purchase on the edges of the crater. 

Francis followed, easily navigating the large hole in the floor, holding out a hand to haul Kodey safely through.  
In front was a corridor only just taller and wider than the door itself, identical in its covering of white marble. It led forward on a shallow downward gradient for over one hundred metres until it curved gently to the left.

“I feel like we have been walking forever,” moaned Clara once the bend of the corridor gave way to another seemingly endless long downward walkway.

“I hope we’re actually in the right place,” Francis said, immediately behind Clara.

A blocked off ending was beginning to come into Clara’s vision.

“I hope that that,” Clara indicated with the gun, “is not a dead end.”

“A dead end?” Kodey asked from behind Francis, peering around him to see. “No! Don’t say that!”

Clara slowed as they approached what she could now see was a ninety degree turning, pointing the gun ahead of her as she dragged her right shoulder against the wall. She held the gun against her chest, inhaling before darting a quick glance past the corner and then retreating her head backwards.

An automatic style door six feet away met her gaze, containing a square black glass panel in the top third that was a visual shock having only seen vast expanses of white for so long.

“Another door,” Clara said to the others upon turning around, pointing around the corner. She crouched down and slowly approached the entryway, unsure as to whether to expect it to open. She dropped the gun onto the strap and put both palms onto the door, standing just below full height to stay out of view of the black portal window.

Kodey and Francis peered around the corner behind her, she took a cautious look back to them, holding them back with a hand gesture.

Clara stood on tiptoes to examine the room inside, realising the glass was not black as she had first assumed, but in fact clear, offering an unobstructed view of the space inside. She moved left and right of the panel to take stock of the area.

The entire far wall was a deep black colour, there was a suggestion of desks and panels with flashing lights to the left obscured by a smooth white wall that extended a short distance. The right hand side had a light grey mechanical shutter style door with red spray painted lettering impossible to read from the angle she was standing at. She was unable to see any figures having stared for at least thirty seconds and worked out the wall on the left side could be the perfect cover to progress further if she could figure out a way in. 

“There’s nobody there,” Clara said quietly, putting her back to the door to the right side of the glass panel, observing the surrounding area to see if there was a scanner or a keypad entry.

Francis moved towards her, followed by Kodey. “What’s in there?” asked Francis, peering through the window easily due to his height.

Clara pulled him away quickly. “I’m not sure, but we should probably stay out of sight.”

Francis nodded and ducked towards the left side of the door with Kodey.

“How do we get inside?” Kodey asked, presumably having noticed, like Clara, that there was no visible means of entry.

Clara shrugged, deciding to scan the door with the sunglasses. She stepped away as she retrieved them out of her collar, finding a setting after a minute that worked. She pushed them onto the top of her head quickly as she picked up the gun to focus her attention forward.

The surface of the white door nearest to them opened vertically from the middle, disappearing into the ceiling and floor with a sharp hiss. The second layer opened horizontally, leaving the portal open and a large expanse of shadowy white, grey and black standing in its wake.

Kodey and Francis stepped back to let Clara progress, tucking themselves in behind. Clara lined herself up to the wall on the left, not turning around as she quietly and slowly paced forward, unsure what was waiting behind the partition. The door sealed behind once Francis had crossed into the room.

Clara edged towards the left hand turn, past a large framed picture of the architect, pausing to steady her nerves. The sunglasses chirruped once, causing her to jump slightly.

“Well hello, Barry,” said a gruff voice behind Kodey and Francis, “and friends.” A loud click permeated the air. Clara, Kodey and Francis quickly spun around to find the owner of the voice.

Mike was stood covering the door, pointing a large dark purple gun that reminded Clara of a water pistol directly at her, wearing a scruffy grey hooded top, jeans and dirty sneakers. He stepped forward, puffing his chest out a little and planted the gun in his right hand squarely onto Kodey’s chest, putting his left hand in his front left jeans pocket. 

Clara instantly began moving her hands to point the gun in his direction, sure she had better reactions.

“Don’t even think about it or he dies,” Mike grinned, toting the gun confidently in his right hand, “hands up, all of you.”

Kodey immediately raised his hands up either side of his head. Francis interlocked his fingers and put them behind his neck. 

“Don’t shoot, please!” Kodey cowered slightly. Mike stood at the same height as him, raising an eyebrow.

Clara held her position for a few moments, deciding to aim a narrow stare directly at Mike’s eyes inside his square black rimmed glasses. His acne covered features sneered back, unblinking. “You won’t do it,” Clara said, trying to call his bluff.

“Yes I will,” Mike said, retraining his gun towards Clara, “and you will be first.”

Clara stared into his eyes for another second before dropping the gun onto its strap and holding up her hands, still maintaining eye contact.

Mike laughed maniacally at her. “Correct decision, Barry. And you are much better looking in person. At least you would be if… how did you burn your face by the way?”

“Who the hell do you think you are? How old even are you?” Clara fired back, not wishing to be outdone by a teenager, “judging by the amount of whiteheads going on up there I’d say,” Clara deliberately rounded down, “twelve? Thirteen?”

“Fifteen,” Mike said sternly, pushing his glasses up onto the ridge of his nose.

“Fifteen?” Clara said with raised eyebrows.

“Strewth,” said Francis quietly, “I’m being held at gunpoint by a fifteen year old boy. Can my day get any worse?”

“And how old are you, Barry?” Mike sneered back.

“Technically or actually? Either way I am old enough to be your mother,” Clara retorted, reflecting to herself, “and god, that is depressing.“

“Shame,” Mike said, pacing forward with the gun, indicating for Kodey and Francis to walk backwards.

“Yes, isn’t it?” Clara said sarcastically. “Little tip for you next time, if there even is a next time, never, ever, ever ask a woman her age.”

“Move,” Mike ushered them into the main area of space towards the jet black wall.

Clara stepped backwards, unable to prevent herself glancing to her right whilst trying to keep her gaze firmly locked onto Mike’s.

The space spread out one hundred feet to the right, the spotless white ceiling towed fifty feet high, punctuated only by sunken spotlights bathing each of the handful of desk terminals in a fluorescent glow surpassing the general ambience in the room, reminding Clara of a pizza restaurant she’d been to a few weeks ago. Each desk had a chalky grey leather chair behind it and they peppered with various computers, terminal controls and flashing lights. 

A large video screen covered the entire wall that had previously been hidden by the partition, opposite the expanse of black, it was loaded with graphs, temperature gauges, scrolling lines of information. Further along there were many CCTV style feeds. One desk was set two feet higher than the others on a raised platform covering a circular footprint in the centre of the space. A high backed seat sat in the middle facing away.

“Wow,” Clara lilted her head to the right, saying loudly, “Dr. Evil called, wants his evil lair back.”

Mike creased his eyebrows, not flinching with the gun. He was directing them back towards the black surface

“Well you certainly do know how to make an entrance,” said a female American voice, “don’t you?”

Delta swung the overly large light grey leather chair around anticlockwise to face Clara, Kodey and Francis as Mike shoved them into what was clearly the nerve centre of the nuclear reactor. She crossed her legs and leant back in the chair, putting her right hand onto the white surface in front of her, tapping her blood red fingernails loudly, gradually slowing down until just her right index nail tapped once a second.

Clara’s lower back hit a brushed silver handrail on the dark wall unexpectedly, followed by Francis to her left and Kodey on her right. She kept her hands up at shoulder level, carefully flicking her eyes between Mike rounding from her left and Delta sat on the chair on the raised platform to her right.

A screen behind Delta caught Clara’s eye. It displayed the time, currently 19.03pm, stated 79% of the donations had been collected and there were over 45 million infected, changing to 46 after a few seconds. Delta’s head covered the exact figure.

“Not afraid to set off a very strong electric charge inside a nuclear reactor,” Delta purred, “managing to avoid capture for almost,” Delta checked the watch on her right wrist, tapping her left index finger once against the face, “sixteen hours, outrunning bots, sneaking past guards, breaking, entering, intercepting communication devices… I’m very impressed,” Delta smiled at her.

“Well, you know,” Clara answered, “I try,” she said smugly.

“It’s a shame really,” Delta said, standing up, running her hand along the top edge of the chair, “we could really use someone like you.”

“Are you offering me a job?” Clara asked, a little confused. “Already got one, thanks, and even if I didn’t, I doubt you could afford me.”

“You know Mike,” Delta carefully stepped down to the floor, her high heels clipping loudly, “you were right, she is feisty.”

Mike sniggered to himself.

“I will show you feisty,” Clara muttered, noticing Delta’s shoes were very expensive and couldn’t help feeling a little jealous. Clara concluded that Delta was clearly a woman who looked after herself, with perfectly manicured nails and hair straightened to within an inch of its life.

Delta approached Clara in short sharp steps, standing at least a foot taller than her in the heels. She put her hands on the machine gun and wrestled it roughly over Clara’s head and arms. 

“I’ll be having this, thank you,” she reached on top of Clara’s forehead and retrieved the sonic sunglasses, “and these.” Delta held the gun with her left forefinger on the trigger, aimed squarely between Clara’s eyes four feet away. She put the sonic sunglasses into her right dress pocket. “How the hell did you get those?” Delta held the gun in both hands.

“I just found them,” Clara said truthfully, “guess your security is a bit lapse.” She let the trace of a smile linger on her lips as she stared Delta out.

Delta’s right eye twitched slightly as her features turned into a scowl. “Turn around,” she snapped, “all of you.”

Clara did as she was told, watching as Kodey and Francis did the same. She saw her own face reflected faintly. There was a sharp jab into the back of her neck which pressed her nose and right cheek towards the glass.

“Take a good look,” Delta said standing closely behind her, leaning in to her left ear. “In five hours that is going to be your new home, whatever is left of you, that is.”

In that instant Clara realised that the wall she had thought was completely black was actually clear and displaying the night sky. A few vague stars twinkled in the distance as she retrained her focus.

“If you look hard enough,” Delta sneered, “you might even see your dead girlfriend.” 

Clara’s hands were manhandled roughly behind her lower back and she felt something snap tightly around her right wrist.

Delta turned Clara around and affixed her left hand around the silver handrail. Mike attached Francis to the same rail on her left, proceeding to do the same to Kodey.

“It won’t work, you know,” Clara said, defiantly.

“What won’t?” Delta held her face above Clara’s.

“Tying me up,” Clara said, laughing, “I’ll find a way to escape and I will stop you. I mean, it is a bit of challenge as I left my vibrocutters at home in my other jacket but,” she mused, “but I’m sure I’ll manage.” She didn’t actually believe what she was saying, unable to see any way out of her current predicament, but had to try something.

Delta stood in front of Clara, slinging the machine gun strap onto her left shoulder as she darted her left hand into Clara’s right jacket pocket, “let’s see what’s in this jacket then, hmm?”

Clara watched as Delta retrieved her phone and the psychic paper, turning them over in her hands. She pressed the circular home button on the phone and smiled as the unlock screen appeared. 

“So we appear to have some sort of primitive brick shaped device-”

“Not a brick,” Clara interjected, immediately trying to defend herself.

“-with a,” Delta creased her eyebrows, “picture of a beach on it, and an identification wallet,” Delta flapped it open, reading the paper, smiling to herself and raising an eyebrow. “Well, well, well,” she dropped the paper down, “Mike, take a look at this,” Delta said, stifling a smirk, “it turns out the person we have been searching for all day is,” she held the wallet out for Mike to read once he had finished securing Kodey, “see for yourself.”

Mike pushed his glasses up onto his nose before looking at Clara and then back at the wallet bursting out laughing. “A mystery shopper?”

“A mystery shopper,” Delta reflected to Mike. “Why on earth did we bother?”

“Because she has lots of money. And now we know why.” Mike offered back, before saying to Clara, “bad day to be a mystery shopper.”

“Yes, thank you,” Clara said playfully, directing her gaze at Francis and Kodey, “said it to these two hours ago… see look, he gets it, and blimey if you think an OFSTED is bad, wait for my report.”

“Please be quiet,” Delta said, dropping the psychic paper to the floor below her. “Take this,” she handed the phone to Mike and emptied Clara’s left pocket.

Mike held the handset the wrong way up and pressed the button. “What does this do?” he said, resetting the orientation as the words appeared.

“Mainly,” Clara replied, “it’s a torch and a calculator. And a camera, because,” Clara paused, “umm, I like to take pictures of myself.”

“Why?” Delta asked, her eyebrows creased.

“She has a particular thing for photos of herself outside doors,” Francis interjected.

“Thank you,” said Clara sarcastically.

“Boring,” Mike said, tossing the handset onto the nearest desk with a loud clatter.

“Do you mind?” Clara said loudly, “that’s mine. Please don’t break it.”

Delta fished into Clara’s left pocket, pulling out the burn spray, the folded up letter and the TARDIS keys. She threw the burn spray over her left shoulder and it skittered off towards the long screen. “And what is this? Love letter is it?” Delta unfolded the paper and read it to herself, laughing quietly.

“That’s nothing,” Clara said, trying to call Delta’s bluff.

“Well, they are certainly right about your hair,” she reflected before her face twisted immediately into a scowl, “what?”

“Seen something you don’t like?” Clara asked out loud.

“The antidote,” Delta snapped, “how did you get the antidote?”

“I didn’t,” Clara said, “that wasn’t me. It was already here.”

“They’ve apparently released the antidote,” groaned Delta.

“How have they done that?” Mike called over, “we didn’t bring enough to set through the vents, did we?”

“No, we didn’t,” Delta replied. “So whoever wrote this must be lying.”

“And didn’t it go missing earlier?” Mike said, being blasé, as he tinkered with a computer nearby.

“No,” Delta lied badly, “also looks like they are instigating the Code Black as we suspected they would do.” She continued reading.

“Great,” Mike said, returning to a desk closer to the large video screen.

“So hang on,” Kodey asked, “you weren’t even going to try to cure everyone?” He fought against his restraints.

“Of course not,” Clara said, staring directly into Delta’s eyes. “That wasn’t the plan, was it? Let me guess, you just had one vial in case one or two of you felt a little off colour,” Clara raised an eyebrow, “specifically purple.”

Delta ignored her.

“What even is that virus? You could at least tell me that? As I’m now able to name things for myself I’ve christened it Zombie-itis,” Clara smiled slightly, “but I’m sure you probably have a proper name.”

“Ostrinus Plus,” Delta said slowly.

“Inventive,” Clara reflected sarcastically on the word, translating it as the Latin word for purple. “OK, so your plan then… you were trying to get as much money as possible before arming both the nuclear reactors, killing everyone in here whilst you escape through the escape pods and turn this whole place into a bright burning sun for the next ten thousand years,” Clara paused for effect, “am I missing anything?”

Delta finished reading and casually dropped the letter. It floated to the ground gracefully.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Clara tested her, trying to figure out a way she could get out of the restraints. Despite tensing up her wrists, a lesson she had learnt from Houdini on a trip with the Doctor, there was very little room for manoeuvre.

“You have the basics,” Delta sneered, holding up the set of keys in her left hand. “What are these?”

“Is that what you think is going to happen?” said Clara. “You will just sail off into the distance, get home and lay on a bed of money and all your problems will just go away? Let me tell you, money does not fix anything. It always creates more problems than it solves.”

“And how would you know?” Delta snapped at her. “I know he wouldn’t know,” she pointed at Francis with the key to Clara’s flat. “Francis Grenello, you and her,” she pointed the key towards Clara, “are two of the richest people in here.” She inspected the TARDIS key and the keyring containing the waste disposal area keyfob for Clara’s flat.

“I work my bloody socks off,” Francis replied to her, standing up a little straighter, “my family are grafters. Who are you to speak? Bet you’ve never done a decent day’s work in your life… I know he hasn’t,” he nodded his head towards Mike.

“You should probably let me go or just kill me,” Kodey said to Clara’s left. “I have nothing. You’ve already taken my wife and daughter by infecting them.” He lowered his head, “I went bankrupt two weeks ago, didn’t have the heart to tell them. I am no use to you at all.”

Delta squared up to Francis. “I have spent my whole life being looked down on, and today it stops. Today I become one of the elite-” She immediately dropped the keys on the ground.

Clara looked down to the floor to see the TARDIS key glowing bright red, pulsing intermittently back to the normal silver.

“What the hell is that?” said Delta, rubbing her left palm with her right thumb, she crouched down to look, smoothing down her dress. “Why is it doing that?”

The key magically readjusted itself so that the long end pointed out of the black window.

Mike ventured over to see. “What is the matter, Delta? I’m trying to finish the cartridge data-” he paused as he approached, looking outside, pointing to Clara’s right. He began laughing in an almost hyena like fashion. “What are the chances of that?”

Delta stood, pulling down the hem of her dress, folding her arms. She stared outside and a grin covered her lips. She folded her arms. “Well, well, well,” Delta purred, “would you look at that? Looks like the dead girlfriend has come to pay you a farewell visit. How romantic.”

“What?” Clara said quietly as she twisted her body around as much as the restraints would allow. “No…” Clara breathed.

Amongst the large expanse of black was Ashildr’s body floating unsupported, no further than six feet away from the exterior of the glass on Clara’s left. She was dressed in the clothes Clara had given her this morning, black jeans, the uncomfortable wedge trainers, the blue jacket with the puncture mark in the arm, the ripped shoulder displaying the red and black checked shirt. She was floating upside down, limbs out like a starfish and her hair flailed out.

“That’s Sheila?” Francis twisted to his right, whispering to her. “I thought you said she was immortal?”

“Immortal, yeah right,” Mike sniggered, having overheard. “Looks dead to me.”

“What did you do to her leg?” Clara asked quietly. She was feeling the same emotions as she had when she had seen her fall off the crane yesterday. She watched her lifeless body drift slowly to be directly in front of her and felt immediately sad. “Why is she bleeding?” she forced out through gritted teeth.

“One of the guards shot her,” Delta explained wistfully, “after she tried to escape. Poor thing was apparently limping all over the place.” She laughed.

Clara banged her forehead loudly on the hard smooth glass. “No… Ashildr… I’m sorry…” she muttered.

“Is that her?” asked Kodey. 

“Yeah,” Clara said quietly, not moving. The initial feelings of sadness were now giving way to another intense emotion. Anger.

“What’s that in her pocket?” Kodey said, squinting. “It looks like… Oh, it’s nothing, just the fold of the material in the light.”

“Well,” said Clara, turning around to face Delta once Ashildr had floated out of her view, “you’ve just made this very easy for me. You don’t just kill one of my friends without any consequences. Now I definitely am going to stop you.”

“Oh yeah?” Delta said, bringing her face in line with Clara’s, “to avenge your dead girlfriend? Sweet.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, I will not be avenging a dead girlfriend because… I do not have a girlfriend. I don’t know how many times I have to tell all of you,” Clara said blankly. “Seriously.”

“Please,” Delta dismissed her, “don’t waste my time.” She stalked away towards the raised desk.

“You make a very cute couple,” Mike grinned, “although,” he pulled close to Clara, “you’re definitely more my type.”

Clara shuddered her shoulders, grimacing. “If you so much as look at me again and I will detach something from you.”

Mike grinned widely at her, folding his arms, pushing the glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. He laughed once and then returned to the desk nearest the large video screen.

“What do we do now?” Kodey asked.

“We wait,” Clara replied, watching as Delta sat in the overly large chair, her legs crossed. She typed a few letters on the keyboard in front of her and a video feed sprung up onto the large screen ahead. It displayed an image of the Russian man sat in identical surroundings.

“Delta,” the Russian man boomed. He was sat in the large chair looking down the camera lens.

“Hello Victor,” Delta said curtly. “I trust you are in position?”

“Yes,” Victor grunted, “we’re here. I had to bring Two in with me as Romeo didn’t appear and Five collapsed outside.”

“Two?” Delta asked suspiciously, holding onto the chair arms. “Which one is that?”

“Alpha Two,” Victor replied curtly, looking left and right, lowering his voice, “the short one.”

Clara’s ears pricked up, they had just mentioned a guard collapsing.

“Isn’t that the dodgy guard?” Francis said quietly to Clara’s left. She continued listening.

“Oh,” Delta said, disheartened.

“I left it as long as possible to wait for Romeo,” Victor said, “have you heard from her?”

“Her and Charlie got infected whilst they were trying to capture Barry,” Delta hung her head. “No sign of them. We must continue as required.”

“That means larger share for us,” Victor said smugly, rubbing his hands together, “the wife will be pleased.”

“Charlie was a founding member,” Delta snapped, “don’t forget that and have some respect, OK? He was a very important part of this plan.”

Clara reacted, quietly saying to Francis, “I bet they’re seeing each other.”

Victor laughed for a couple of seconds. “We all know, you know?”

“Know what?” Delta tilted her head, confused.

Mike began laughing to Delta’s left as he tapped furiously on a small keyboard.

“About you and him,” Victor said smugly, “no use trying to hide it.”

“Told you,” Clara said. She had given up trying to struggle out of the restraints for the moment.

“Oh,” Delta blushed, turning away from the screen by rotating the chair to the left to inhale deeply. She narrowed her eyes and then slowly returned to face the screen. “Enough. Have you gained access to the detonators?”

“Yes,” Victor grinned.

“Then we shall go ahead with the original plan,” Delta said, not looking at the screen. “Providing we collect all the biometrics, we will arm at twenty one hundred, and then leave. Have you gained access to the escape pod?”

“Not yet,” Victor said.

“Then I suggest you do,” Delta replied curtly, pointing at the time, “we have ninety minutes before we need to arm.” 

“How is little man doing?” Victor asked, “will he be ready in time?”

Mike groaned loudly. “Tell him to take a running jump off a cliff.”

“Yes, we are on schedule,” Delta translated.

“Good to hear,” Victor, “I just hope the little man can deliver.”

Mike stood up suddenly from the desk, pacing over to the platform when Delta held out her left hand, urging him to stop.

“We will transmit your half of the data once it has all been processed,” Delta said, locking her eyes on Mike, “OK? For now, focus on the escape pod, if you cannot get that open you will be stuck in here, won’t you?”

Victor started to say something and then stopped himself. He banged his fist loudly on the surface in front of him.

“Understood, Victor?” Delta said with a raised eyebrow.

“Understood,” Victor nodded, clearly annoyed.

Delta tapped a few buttons and the screen disappeared, replaced with lines of scrolling data and graphs. She put her head in her hands.

“Please tell me we will be ready,” Delta said quietly to Mike.

“You’ve asked me to process the biometrics of almost a billion people,” Mike looked up from typing furiously for a second.

Clara gasped loudly. Her mind began spinning as she began to connect dots in her head and it dawned on her the sheer scale and audacity of their plan.

“I will do it, but I can’t just create that out of thin air, it is going to take me time, especially after the cartridge was shot, OK?” Mike leant back in the chair and stared her out.

“And our arrangement?” Delta softened her tone.

“Is why it is taking so long,” Mike finished her sentence. “Now will you let me work? Go and file your nails or something.”

Delta stared narrowly at him for a few seconds with her hands on her hips. She spun on her black stiletto heel and returned to sit on the chair of the platform. She tapped the fingernails of her right hand on the arm of the chair and began scrolling through pages of data on a touchscreen to her left.

“So, at least we know what they are doing now,” Clara said quietly after a minute, flicking her eyes between Francis on her left and Kodey on her right.

“That is going to be one hell of a heist,” Francis agreed.

“That is not going to happen,” Clara said, her eyes wide, “they are not killing everyone and walking away with their vital statistics… and bags of money, I forgot about that, no, not on my watch. I will stop them.”

“How do suggest we do that?” Kodey asked to Clara’s right.

Clara looked at the rail they were all secured to. “Will we be able to move this is we all pull at the same time?”

They attempted to coordinate their efforts, anchoring their feet against the window and pulling roughly. It quickly became clear that the rail was not going anywhere.

“That is not working,” Kodey said, stating the obvious.

“No, it’s not,” Clara said, annoyed, sighing loudly in frustration. “I guess we wait then.”

“Great,” Francis said, twisting his body to lean his right shoulder onto the window.

Clara fixated herself on the time, visible above Delta’s chair. It was currently 19.39pm. She leant her head back onto the solid glass behind her, waiting for something to happen. She worked through in her mind all the possible ways of escape, ruling each one out in turn, closing her eyes as she felt a mental fatigue set in.

“How do these work?” said Delta, breaking Clara’s concentration after they had been left alone for some time.

Clara looked at the screen, realising half an hour had passed and it was now 20.12pm.

Francis had taken to sitting on the floor with his arms still tied to the rail above, his head rested on the glass behind. Kodey was leaning back on the handrail, his legs crossed in front of him.

“What?” said Clara, almost playfully stifling a small yawn.

“The sunglasses,” Delta retrieved them from her right pocket. “How do they work?” She unfolded the arms and put them on.

“I’m not telling you,” Clara said defiantly. 

“You will tell me,” Delta sneered an inch away from her face.

“Will I?” Clara stared back at her, her right eyebrow raised.

Delta nodded and took a few steps backwards, returning to the outside of the raised desk, retrieving the machine gun.

Clara looked around the room, noticing Mike was not visible and that the video feed of Victor had been reinstated on the main screen. 

Delta held the machine gun in front of her and pointed it between Kodey’s eyes.

Kodey blinked with a start, pulling his head away towards the glass. “Please don’t shoot me!” he pleaded. “Why is it always me they go after?”

“Tell me or I will shoot,” Delta hovered her left index finger over the trigger, staring at Clara.

“OK, OK,” Clara conceded, not wishing to put anyone’s safety in jeopardy, “I can show you.”

Delta kept the gun trained on Kodey. “How do they work?”

“That depends on what you want to do,” Clara replied, “they can do lots of things. Pass them to me and I will show you.” She tried her luck with a fairly basic tactic.

“How stupid do you think I am?” Delta asked, keeping the gun on Kodey.

“What scale are we working on? One to ten?” Clara smirked back, being deliberately obstructive. “One to five?”

“Don’t test me,” Delta narrowed her eyes.

“OK,” Clara nodded, “see that door over there?” She tilted her head to the left, indicating the door they had entered. “They opened it.”

“Show me,” said Delta.

“Setting one three seven… no,” Clara paused, reflecting, “no, that is for vehicle doors,” she thought for a moment, “they usually just work for me, I don’t have to set them, umm, try one three nine or five. There’s a little dial on the top, the number is in the top right.” 

Delta moved her right hand to the bridge of the glasses, clearly scrolling through the settings. “Oh, I see,” she smiled, pulling the gun away. The sunglasses whirred once.

“So, basically, you just look at the door, with it on that setting and think the word open,” Clara directed, “and it should, you know, open.” She looked down at the floor, annoyed at having capitulated to Delta’s demands, realising the psychic paper was lying open, noticing some numbers written on it, Clara squinted, just about able to make out the number ‘408’ and some illegible writing underneath.

“Why would you want to do that?” Delta said, moving towards the door, “when there is an open button?”

“That…” Clara paused, “that is actually a very good point, earlier we were on the other side, with no way in… so…” she trailed off, trying to think what setting the psychic paper was referring to, “you need to get really close as well.”

Delta approached the entryway, a few paces out of earshot.

“When she comes back,” Clara said in a hushed whisper to Kodey and Francis, “I’m going to try something, might be able to get myself free.”

“How?” asked Kodey quietly, watching Delta.

“I don’t know yet,” Clara replied, “haven’t quite figured that out yet. The paper,” Clara aimed her eyes downwards, “is trying to tell me something.”

Francis looked across, not making any effort to stand up, trying to pull the wallet closer with his right heel. “It says, four zero eight, and” he strained, “I think that says ‘emergency mirror’.”

“What’s an emergency mirror?” asked Kodey.

“I have absolutely no idea,” Clara shook her head.

Delta stood in front of the door for thirty seconds, not moving. The sunglasses whirred intermittently.

“How are you getting on?” Clara called out, having already identified there was nothing happening.

“Why is it not working?” Delta snapped, turning on her heel and pacing quickly back to Clara, aiming the gun at her chest.

“They are a little bit damaged… and I think I got the wrong setting,” Clara reflected, “it’s definitely four zero eight, put it to that and it will work.”

Delta adjusted the dial on the bridge of the glasses again. She stared Clara out, “so all I do is look at something and think the word open?”

“Yep,” Clara said, wondering what was going to happen next.

The sunglasses whirred loudly a foot in front of Clara’s face.

“Why are they making that noise?” Delta asked harshly, prodding the gun into her ribs.

“That means they’re on,” Clara deflected, “nothing to worry about.” She wondered what an emergency mirror was, desperately hoping they would do something useful to either distract Delta or release her from the rail. 

A loud pop sounded above, blowing out one of the small halogen lightbulbs in the ceiling with a puff of smoke, leaving their area in a gloomy shadow.

Clara gazed at the light, noticing the restraints around her wrists melt away to nothing, trying not to let her facial features betray the mixture of surprise and relief. She thought about the far door opening, wondering if that would work to disguise the fact she was free.

The door opened a second later, much to Clara’s amazement. She had not realised this setting existed, making a mental note to remember the number.

“Look,” Clara nodded, “you did it, the door’s open now. You have also blown out a lightbulb,” she aimed her eyes upwards, “but I guess that isn’t too bad for your first attempt. The first time my friend the Doctor used them on me I forgot how to drink liquids, so think yourself lucky.”

Delta smiled to herself, clearly impressed, dropping the gun out of her hands and onto the strap. “What else do they do?” She adjusted the strap to let the gun sit behind her back.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find out,” Clara mused.

Delta smiled at her, arms folded. “Thank you, you’ve been very useful.” She began to proceed back to the raised desk, pushing the sunglasses up onto her head.

“Before you go, can I just say one thing?” Clara said, an idea of how to overpower Delta forming in her head now the restraints had been released.

“And what is that?” Delta sneered, returning to stand a few feet from her.

“Those…” Clara said, looking down to Delta’s feet, “shoes are beautiful.”

“Thanks,” Delta gazed at the floor for a moment, “they are, aren’t they?”

Clara picked her moment to attack, shifting her weight, twisting and rounding a swift non-lethal taekwondo kick with her left foot to the right side of Delta’s head as she was distracted, knocking her off balance and toppling to the ground. Clara pounced towards Delta, getting her left knee onto the smooth floor and her right calf onto Delta’s upper back below the machine gun, the fabric of the grey shirt-dress soft against her bare skin. She grabbed Delta’s free right arm and twisted it behind her back, leaving her immobile nose down against the concrete.

Delta groaned as she tried to struggle beneath her. “Get off me!”

Clara edged the sunglasses off Delta’s head with her left hand, putting them onto her own face with some difficultly. She aimed the field of vision at Francis and opened his restraints, before doing the same for Kodey.

“That was…” said Francis, nodding with a smile, rubbing his wrists, “I mean, what was that? I can’t even think of a word.”

“Awesome?” Clara offered, pinning Delta to the floor.

“Athletic?” Kodey ventured, removing the restraints off his wrists, pacing around.

“I’ll take athletic,” Clara said smugly.

“No…” replied Francis. 

“Impressive?” Clara said, “because I think that was really pretty impressive-”

“No… I mean it was, but no, not quite,” Francis replied 

“Breathtaking?” Clara laughed.

“What is the word?” Francis pondered, clicking the fingers of his right hand.

“Sexy?” Clara smiled cheekily.

“A little…” Francis reacted instantly, stopping himself, “no, no…” he thought for a moment.

“Just pick something, I mean,” Clara mused, “any old favourable adjective will do-” 

“Terrifying,” Francis replied putting his right index finger in the air, “definitely terrifying, yes, that’s the word I was searching for.”

“Oh yeah,” Clara laughed, keeping her body weight onto Delta’s back. “I once did this to Shakira Watts in Year 9 after she called me a very unfavourable four letter word, never heard from her again.” Clara smirked, reflecting, “actually I think she may have even moved schools-”

“I will kill you,” Delta forced out beneath Clara.

“Do you know any taekwondo?” Clara asked her, slightly out of breath.

“No,” Delta replied, straining against Clara’s grip.

“Then, I really hate to break it to you,” Clara mused, “but you are not going to kill me so it’s probably best you shut up. Bring over one of those thingys, Kodey,” Clara said loudly, indicating the restraints he had discarded.

Kodey crouched to the floor, picked up the plastic wire and secured Delta’s right hand, helping Clara to get her up and move her towards the rail they had previously been attached to. He removed the machine gun off her onto the floor and then affixed Delta’s hands above her head as she sat on the ground. “That should do.”

Clara stood away from Delta, pulled down her dress and folded her arms, staring her out as a she raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I told you I would stop you.”

“Who are you?” asked Delta quietly, straining her wrists against the restraints, realising her efforts were futile.

“Me?” Clara replied, “oh, I’m a secondary school teacher,” she lilted her head, “English specifically, kind of given that up to become a professional traveller, well, I say traveller, I guess time traveller is technically more accurate, with the woman who I once saved in a Viking village but killed me a thousand years ago after the man I used to travel with brought me back from the dead before my last heartbeat after he waited five billion years to save me,” she paused for breath, “he completely forgot me, personally still not quite over that and using the whole travelling thing to distract myself, so anyway yes, I stole his time machine, I went home yesterday, ended up getting 3D printed to a nearby building and today I came shopping and this happened. Does anyone have any questions?” She looked around at the others.

A silence hung in the air.

“What I actually meant was,” Delta cleared her throat, a perplexed looked on her face, “what’s your name?”

“Oh.” Clara walked a few paces away from her towards the circular control console. “I’m Clara Oswald,” she said with a small smile pausing before she stepped up towards the platform, “but I guess you can call me,” she turned to face Delta with her hands on her waist, “the Captain.”

A loud thud resonated about the space. Delta’s face drained of any colour it had as she gazed past Clara’s head.

“So if you’re the Captain,” said a male voice from behind Clara. “What does that make me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So who is this now?
> 
> Anyone got any ideas? :-D
> 
>  
> 
> I know you all know this already, but I post loads of clues, hints and spoilers (AND gifs - I love a good gif) along with previews of upcoming dialogue over my twitter. If you want to get involved(/have a Clara gif brighten up your timeline) then check out @ClaraAndMe_AIT


	63. Chapter 63

Clara spun around to see just a guard on the video screen above the console. He was dressed head to toe in black holding a large silver metal cylinder in both hands, hovering behind the large chair looking off camera. 

“Sorry,” Clara said, folding her arms, creasing her eyebrows, tilting her head and taking a step up to the platform. “What?”

“I said,” the guard repeated, mirroring her posture, “if you’re the Captain, what does that make me?” 

He set down the brushed silver canister on the floor to the right of the screen and sat down on an identical grey, high backed chair. He was now visible from the waist up, wearing a black combat vest over a black jumper, his black gloved hands resting on the surface nearest the camera. The balaclava covering his face left only his eyes and mouth exposed. A machine gun rested on his lap. There were two gas masks strewn on the right hand side desk.

“I heard you perfectly well the first time,” said Clara curtly, taking a few tentative paces forward towards the large grey chair pulling up alongside it. “I’m just confused… who are you?” She put her right hand on the top edge of the smooth leather.

Kodey and Francis followed behind. Francis sat on an empty piece of desk surface behind the chair to Clara’s left, adjusting his silver watch on his wrist, rubbing away the marks made from the restraints. Kodey walked around the platform to Clara’s right. He leant his left elbow against the outer edge of the round desk.

“Alpha Two,” said the guard. “Hello Clara, Kodey and… Francis.”

“Err… how do you know our names-” Clara started.

“What have you done to Dimitri- I mean, Victor?” shouted Delta loudly from behind. Clara craned her head around briefly before returning her gaze back to Alpha Two.

“He’s fine,” Alpha Two moved closer to the screen, sitting square in front on the edge of the chair, looking to the floor, “well, he will be, he’ll probably wake up in a few hours. Maybe… at least I hope so.”

“If you have done anything to him, I will kill you,” Delta bellowed, struggling against the restraints attached to the handrail.

“Oh,” said Alpha Two blankly, eyes narrowing in Delta’s direction, “I’d rather like to see you try.”

“So who are you then?” Clara asked, sitting down, ignoring Delta, raising an eyebrow, “and why are you trying to help us?” There was a keyboard attached to a small computer screen directly in front of her on the desk, a handle shaped rotating lever to the left and a panel full of flashing buttons in different colours to her right.

“Have you not figured it out yet?” Alpha Two folded his arms and leant back slightly in the chair he was sat in. “I am very disappointed.”

“To give me credit,” Clara fired back, “I’m not the one wearing the head to toe combat gear and a balaclava, makes it kind of difficult,” she said, a little annoyed, “just saying.”

“Aren’t you the dodgy one?” said Francis, putting his right hand on the top of the chair, pointing at the screen with his left hand.

“The,” Alpha Two cleared his throat, “dodgy one? I am not familiar with this word… dodgy.”

“Someone I was travelling with told us there was a guard trying to help us,” Clara explained, “before she got released out of an airlock.”

“Oh yes,” Alpha Two smiled a little, “the much younger, slightly thinner, more attractive one with better hair and make-up? I do seem to remember.”

Francis sniggered behind Clara, slinking back to sit out of her gaze, stopping laughing when she turned around on the chair to glare at him. He held up his hands in surrender.

Clara rotated the chair to face the screen, moving her eyes slowly back to fixate on Alpha Two’s. “I am going to pretend,” Clara said as calmly as she could muster, putting her palms down onto the desk surface, “I didn’t just hear that.”

Alpha Two smirked back, a thin mouth visible through the balaclava.

“Now if you know me,” Clara raised her eyebrows, a thunderous look covering her face, “which, as it is clear by the fact you know my name, you do, I suggest you stop insulting me, stop being so bloody mysterious and tell me what the hell is going on in this place.”

Kodey looked at Francis, rolling his eyes.

After a few seconds pause Alpha Two spoke to the screen. “We need to stop the reactors being armed-”

“Yeah,” Clara interrupted sarcastically, “umm… surprisingly enough I got that memo.” She exhaled loudly.

“Must you always be so obstructive?” Alpha Two snapped back.

“Obstructive?!” Clara said loudly.

“If you let me finish-” Alpha Two started.

“I am not obstructive!” Clara could feel her blood beginning to boil.

“You two sound like a married couple,” Francis said under his breath. “Very argumentative, aren’t you?” he observed to Clara.

Clara inhaled slowly, clenching her fists, trying to bite her tongue. “Please don’t you start too,” she whispered.

“What do we have to do?” Kodey asked, interrupting, lining himself into the field of vision of the feed.

“As I was saying,” Alpha Two said curtly, “we have to make sure the reactors are not activated and then get out. There is a mass evacuation being prepared, we have to be inside the Plateau by midnight.”

“And how do we do that?” Kodey asked.

Alpha Two went to reply but was stopped as Victor appeared on the right hand side of the screen, putting his hands on either side of Alpha Two’s neck and twisting to the right sharply with an audible snap. Alpha Two’s balaclava clad head lolled face first on to the desk as he fell sideways off the chair, out of view of the screen’s field of vision.

“No!” screamed Clara at the screen, instinctively standing up and reaching out with her right hand, left palm on the desk in front. “No,” she said quieter, grasping at the air. “You didn’t have to kill him.”

Victor pushed Alpha Two’s lifeless body out of the way with a loud thud to return to his earlier position. “Oh dear,” he grinned, “looks like Two has had an unfortunate accident.”

“There was absolutely no need for that,” Clara said, narrowing her eyes, trying to remain calm. “He didn’t do anything to you.”

“He was weak,” Victor sneered, “and a traitor.” Victor ventured off screen, dragging Alpha Two’s frame away off the platform. He picked up the machine gun and pointed it at the ground, half hidden by the chair in the foreground. “Let me show you what we do to traitors where I am from.”

“No!!” Clara screamed. “Don’t!!”

Victor loudly discharged at least ten bullets out of the gun, not batting an eyelid.

“No,” Clara breathed to herself, banging her right fist loudly down on the table in front of her. “No.”

“What are we going to do now?” said Kodey, putting both hands on the top of his head.

Francis turned away from the screen, head hung down, his right hand massaging the bridge of his nose.

Victor set down the gun on his knees as he returned to the grey seat with a loud slump.

“Do you have no respect?” Clara asked Victor. “He was dead already, you didn’t need to shoot him as well.” She put her elbows on the desk and cradled her head.

“Little lady,” Victor said, leaning back in the chair, leaving a loud creak lingering in the air, “you obviously do not realise how serious we are. Two was a traitor. Now he is dead.”

“Is that the only way anybody ever solves a problem?” Clara said loudly, looking up, holding her right hand out to the side. “By killing people?”

“Did you really think you could stop us?” Delta said. “You may have been able to stop me, but you will not be able to stop Victor, he is a thousand miles away,” she said loudly, “you walked inside here, didn’t you? It takes almost an hour to get in and hour to get out of the nuclear reactor terminal control, let alone travel between them, it would be impossible for you to disable both of the reactors.” 

“Well, just your luck,” Clara said with a slight smirk, calling behind her, facing forwards, “because I happen to be the Impossible Girl,” lowering her voice, “although strictly between ourselves, I am going through a bit of a rebranding.”

“Enough,” said Victor. “It is approaching twenty one hundred, has little man finished with the data?”

“Not if I can help it,” Clara replied, instantly realising that she had not seen Mike for some time. “Francis, Kodey, have you seen Mike?”

Francis shook his head, shrugging his shoulders to Kodey.

“You two, go and find him,” Clara said loudly, “we need to make sure that data does not get out. I’ll stay here and watch her.”

“You betcha,” said Francis enthusiastically, pausing to pull close to Clara, pointing backwards. “Can I take the gun?” he started quietly.

“Yes,” Clara sighed, waving him away, “you can take the gun.”

“Ace!” said Francis, stepping off the platform and picking up the machine gun from the floor near Delta. He slung it diagonally over his shoulder, holding it in his hands and moved to Clara’s right.

“Is it safe?” Kodey walked a couple of paces before turning back to glance at Clara.

“Come on mate,” said Francis, scoping out the underneath of a few desks. He disappeared through a door at the other end of the room, dragging Kodey with him. “Let’s go find the bogan-”

Clara watched the screen, surveying the numerous keypads and screens around her. She pulled the sonic sunglasses down from the top of her head, letting them scan the equipment. She held out her hands, hovering over the keyboard in front, twitching her fingers mid-air. “Now how does this work…” she said to herself.

A loud bleep sounded. A red haze appeared over the screen, with large letters that spelt out ‘DATA DOWNLOAD IN PROGRESS’.

Victor began laughing as he tapped away on the keyboard in front of him. “Well, well, well,” he grinned out at Clara, “looks like little man is not so useless after all,” he bellowed. He placed retrieved a small black cartridge from near the gas masks and inserted it into a slot to the left of the screen.

Clara spun around to face Delta. “What’s happening?”

“As if I would tell you,” Delta sneered loudly.

“You are about to see me get very rich young lady,” Victor laughed, “maybe your details are in here, eh? Maybe I can get to know you a bit better?”

Clara returned to face Victor, a little unsettled as he smirked back at her, and pressed the button on the side of the sonic sunglasses. They flashed up a message on the right lens stating the data was 32% downloaded and a white arrow pointing to the nearest computer. “Oh no… oh no you don’t,” said Clara, sliding a small keyboard towards her. The left lens flashed intermittently from the damage. 81%. She started typing frantically, following the instructions on the lens of the sunglasses, trying to counteract the increasing download percentage number. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing, but it seemed to be working as the percentage dropped from 74% to 68% before her eyes.

“What are you doing?” said Delta, confused, “you can’t stop the download, you know.”

“Can’t I?” Clara said, still typing a code onto the keyboard, watching reams of information flash past the screen. Her eyes widened and she allowed herself a small smile. 52%. 

“No!” said Victor, thumping his fists down onto the desk surface. “No! No! I am not leaving without the data! Delta! Do something!!”

Clara gasped excitedly as she watched the percentage drop to 27% and then quickly down to 15%. “Yes!” she said in a hushed whisper. “Looks like… you’re not going to get it.”

“I want that data,” Victor shouted.

“Victor,” Delta shouted loudly, “arm the reactor now and get yourself out!”

Victor shook his head, sneering at the camera. He tapped a few letters on the keyboard near the lens of the camera and then turned to his left, rotating the large lever handle down with a resounding clunk. He began collecting objects around him, forcing them quickly into a small black holdall.

Clara finished typing, watching as the percentage fell instantly to 0% and a large white tick appeared over the right lens. She pulled off the sonic sunglasses and put them back into her collar, her elation at counteracting the download swiftly turning into despair as she noticed the handle next to her was marked ‘REACTOR ARMED’ in the bottom setting.

“You test me, little girl,” Victor groaned.

“Now you’re in trouble,” said Delta, “the only way to disable the other reactor is by manually turning the handle.” She laughed for several seconds.

Victor placed both of the gas masks into the holdall and looked to the ceiling as a pulsing siren sounded and a red flashing light strobed on the screen. He smiled back as the words ‘NR1 ARMED’ in white lettering crossed the middle of the screen, along with a countdown of one hour.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Clara put her head in her hands, realising it was nigh on impossible to even return to the transmission area in this time, let alone get into the other reactor. “You really have thought this through, haven’t you?” she said to Delta. She looked at the time. 20.45pm.

“Of course,” Delta said, rustling her restraints loudly against the rail, “we spent years preparing for this, imagine,” she paused, “everyone in here dies, we are able to gain access to every one of their bank accounts before anyone will even notice they are missing. I can’t even imagine how rich I will be, but definitely something with an ‘-aire’ on the end.”

“Forgive me for not congratulating you on your successful plan to murder a billion people and steal their identities,” Clara said snidely, realising it was now inevitable the explosion was going to happen.

“Even with the evacuation-” Delta started.

“The evacuation!” Clara exclaimed, “I’d forgotten about that! Maybe we can get everyone out-” She spun the chair around to look at Delta.

“You stupid girl,” Delta chided her, “don’t you realise?”

“Realise what?” Clara replied, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow. “And do not call me stupid, if you hadn’t noticed, you’re the one the tied up to a wall so you have absolutely no authority on who stupid right now.”

“The evacuation is scheduled for midnight,” Delta said slowly.

“Yes, the evacuation is scheduled for midnight,” Clara tightened her arms, “so what? The reactor is set to blow up…” she paused, realising the flaw in what she was saying, “… in an hour… oh.”

“Maths is clearly not your forte,” Delta grinned, “is it?”

“No,” Clara groaned loudly, banging her head on the expanse of leather behind her, unable to stop herself saying quietly, “that was Danny’s”

“So, by all means,” Delta smirked, “please keep on believing your flawed little plan will save everyone in here.”

Clara stared into her eyes, trying to disguise the intense feeling of how upset she was as Delta grinned back at her. She rotated the chair slowly back around at an absolute loss, she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

Victor was looking out from the screen, having watched their conversation. He was tapping a single button intermittently on the keyboard in front and then turned to the panel of buttons on his right. “I am ready to go to escape pod now,” he barked. “I will get my half of the data Delta… or I will hunt your both down like dogs if I have to.”

Clara opened her eyes, nonchalantly gazing at the screen. She watched as a figure dressed in black with a lolling head stood up silently behind Victor. She gasped slightly as Alpha Two snapped his broken neck back into position with a visible jerk and an audible crack. He picked up a large piece of metal tubing and wielded it above his head shoulder like an axe.

“Victor!!” Delta screamed in a high pitched wail, a second too late.

Alpha Two swung the pipe down with an unexpectedly large force down onto the top of Victor’s head as he reacted to look backwards, leaving a noticeable dent. Victor’s features lulled quickly to the side, face drained of all colour and his eyes rolled backwards. 

“I think I’ve done it properly this time,” Alpha Two gazed off to his right, retrieving a pair of handcuffs from his accessory belt and disappearing off camera.

Victor’s lifeless body slid quietly down off the chair after a few moments, his tongue hanging limp from his mouth.

“No!!” shouted Delta, “what have you done?!” She was screaming intermittently in a way that resembled a panic attack. “Victor!! Dimitri!!” she howled loudly, sobbing. “Dimitri…”

“Have you killed him?” Clara said to the empty feed, unsure what was happening, she searched the video screen for any clues.

“Not sure,” Alpha Two said blankly, returning to sit squarely on the chair, gazing off camera. “Hopefully better than my last attempt and I can actually-”

“Victor!” Delta cried behind her, “Victor,” she sighed resignedly.

“So,” said Alpha Two, dusting his zip up vest down, “what did I miss?”

Clara could help but laugh at how blasé the guard was being. “What did you miss?” Clara creased her eyebrows. “That’s your question? Quite a bit actually.”

“Where were we?” Alpha Two looked out of the screen, threading his fingers and resting them on the desk in front.

“You were going to tell me who the hell you are,” Clara went on the offensive, pushing the chair back, standing up and putting her hands on her hips. “And how we are going to get out of this place.”

“Oh yes,” Alpha Two replied, clearly goading her, “so I was.”

“Well?” Clara stood still, only blinking, eyebrows raised. “I’m waiting.”

“Don’t you know who I am?” Alpha Two remained still, hands in front.

“No I don’t,” Clara said, exasperated, putting the forefinger and thumb of her right hand on the bridge of her nose. “If I knew, I wouldn’t have to ask, would I?”

“Maybe I should ask it in a different way,” Alpha Two mused.

“What other way is there to ask it?” Clara groaned in frustration, “I don’t know who you are! End of!”

“Don’t you know who I am?” said Alpha Two in an unexpected female tone.

Clara instantly recognised the voice, taking a pace backwards as her mouth hung open slightly in shock. “Oh no,” she exhaled as the figure in front of the screen removed the balaclava over their head. She gasped as the face was revealed.

“Oh yes,” Ashildr smirked back at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, BOOM, how do you like that?
> 
> Can I ask you, PLEASE, if you are going to leave a comment to please don't post any spoilers, I want to try and keep the reveal for anyone that might be further back. :-)


	64. Chapter 64

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a couple of weeks, but I am really trying to get this finished!
> 
> We have six more chapters to go, as I've said before, the last bits are, for the main, written, just trying to knit the last cliffhangers together.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and commenting, I'm glad everyine liked the big reveal in the last chapter, so now Ashildr's back we can have a little fun... have a little 'Me' time.

Ashildr’s triumphant features filled the large video feed in front of the circular desk.

“What the hell are you doing in there?” Clara snapped as a reaction. She turned around and pointed to the large black window behind her, confused. Ashildr looked back at her with an expression that could only been immense pride. Clara immediately felt annoyed that Ashildr has so effectively fooled her.

“I think you’ll find I’m saving you and all the people in here by,” Ashildr tapped a few buttons on the computer keyboard to her right, pausing to look at Clara with a raised eyebrow and a smile, “disabling the nuclear reactor.” Ashildr tapped the final button loudly, rotated the large lever to her left upwards with a resounding clunk and then leant back in the chair.

Clara watched the red haze over the projected screen dissipate. The countdown stopped and the display returned to normal.

“No!” shouted Delta. “You, I will kill you!”

“Really?” said Ashildr, ignoring her. “Anyway-”

“I will kill you!” Delta screamed, hysterical.

Clara turned around to face Delta, pointing behind with her thumb. “She actually is immortal, you know,” she sighed, “nobody can kill her, no matter how much they try,” Clara returned to face Ashildr’s image, “or want to,” she said blankly.

The main display screen flashed up a message saying ‘NR1 DISABLED’ and the electronic siren stopped.

“Now that is hardly the way to talk to me,” Ashildr reflected, “is it?”

Clara aimed a narrow stare at Ashildr, saying nothing. She returned to sit, placing her palms on the desk as she rolled the chair forwards slowly.

Ashildr shifted in her seat, lazily put her right foot onto the surface in front of her with a loud thump and crossed the left leg over. The video feed reacted to the movement, juddering slightly. She moved back in the chair, leaning back and folding her arms. “Anyway… now I’ve saved everyone, please do go on. What were you saying to me?”

“I asked you,” Clara cleared her throat by covering her mouth, “what… the hell… are you doing in there?”

“Are you complaining?” Ashildr asked with a raised eyebrow, right hand playing with a ringlet of her hair now it had been unfurled from underneath the balaclava.

“No,” Clara narrowed her eyes, annoyed, holding her right hand in the air, “I want to know how you’ve gone from being blown out of an airlock, floating in space past this,” she aimed her thumb behind her, “very window ten minutes ago to being inside the other nuclear reactor one thousand miles away.”

“That is a very good story,” Ashildr said, adjusting the left sleeve of her jumper, watching her right hand loosening the left glove a finger at a time.

“I bet it is,” Clara said sarcastically, “so off you go then.”

Ashildr paused, looking off to the right side of the screen as she fully removed the left glove and set it on her lap. “I think it’s best if-”

“Tell me!” Clara snapped.

“I don’t actually remember,” Ashildr reflected, loosening the index finger of her right glove, looking down.

“Oh yeah,” Clara nodded, saying at an increasing volume “how convenient… you don’t remember, let me guess,” Clara pondered, annoyed, “it’s been so long that you’ve forgotten due to your finite memory, because- because- because you’re so old that you can’t remember something that happened earlier today?”

“Something like that,” Ashildr said under her breath, slowly pulling off the right glove.

“Something like that?” Clara repeated loudly, “that’s all you’ve got to say?”

Ashildr set her right glove down on her lap, pausing to contemplate silently. After thirty seconds she looked at Clara.

Clara tried to control the swell of anger swirling through her body.

“So how did you manage to find your way into the control centre of the other nuclear reactor in the galaxy’s biggest shopping centre,” Ashildr mused, threading her fingers on her lap, saying sarcastically, “talk your way in, did you?”

“No,” Clara replied, rolling her eyes, “I did not… talk my way in.”

“Shame,” Ashildr observed, “I’d have thought with your command of the English language-”

“Are you going to answer my question or not?” Clara talked over her, “because my patience is wearing very very thin right now.”

“You’ll have to read my journals,” Ashildr replied, waiving her left hand up, “I’ve written everything down for you, back in the TARDIS, exactly how it happened but I think there are some urgent matters to resolve before we can bond over extended storytelling.”

“Right,” barked Clara, exhaling loudly, “give me the edited highlights.”

“I’ll give you the edited highlight,” Ashildr corrected her, “I’m not dead, surprisingly enough.”

“For god’s sake Ashildr!” Clara groaned, banging her palms on the desk.

“Me,” Ashildr corrected her sharply, “my name’s Me.”

“This is like trying to get blood from a stone,” Clara said under her breath.

“I’ll explain later,” Ashildr said definitely, “it’s quite complicated and I’m not quite sure if you’ll understand.” She smirked at Clara.

“Of course I’ll understand,” Clara said loudly, patronising her in the way she would a child at school, “one paragraph summary, right now. Go!”

Ashildr sighed, as if she knew Clara would not relent until she gave away something.

“Still waiting,” Clara interrupted, crossing her arms. “Because we absolutely have all day, don’t we?”

“I woke up in the landing bay of one of the car parks,” Ashildr said whilst picking a large piece of dust off her black combat trousers, “the TARDIS key was glowing red hot and it-”

“Oh my god, of course!” Clara exclaimed over her.

“-directed me back-” Ashildr continued.

“The TARDIS key!” Clara smiled, shaking her head in disbelief. 

“- and then the TARDIS went back in time-” Ashildr tried to talk over Clara.

“You know the Doctor once used it to fly to the TARDIS when he fell out of a plane,” Clara laughed, remembering a story he had told her.

“- and then I infiltrated the AGA-” Ashildr ran her hand through her hair.

“How did you do that?” Delta barked.

“Yeah,” Clara said, folding her arms and tilted her head, “how did you do that?”

Ashildr paused to smirk at the screen, raising her right eyebrow. “I switched places with one of the guards in the car park,” she said with an air of triumph, “he really was useless.”

“What did you do with him?” Delta snapped loudly.

“And cheap. Very cheap,” Ashildr chuckled to herself, “he sold your plans to me for half the money I was expecting-”

“What did you do to him?” Delta screamed, struggling against the bar with a loud clatter.

“He’s fine,” Ashildr dismissed in a blasé tone, “was planning to head to the casino with his earnings the last time I heard, wonder how that has worked out for him?”

“So you found your way back to the TARDIS?” Clara asked.

“Yes,” Ashildr nodded, “had to walk for an absolute age-”

“I know how that feels,” Clara laughed once, “we walked for an hour just to get in here. Hang on,” she stopped suddenly, realising something, “where is the TARDIS?”

“Right now?” Ashildr asked.

“Yes, right now.”

“Still in the car park,” Ashildr pointed to the right hand side of the screen, “I haven’t finished floating there yet.”

“Right…” Clara pondered.

“So how did you get in?” Ashildr changed the subject, eyeing her suspiciously.

“We managed to get a past a guard by using advanced stealth tactics,” Clara smiled triumphantly, “find our way here by walking, explode open a time-lock sealed door with a very powerful grenade and defeat two dangerous AGA members.”

Ashildr laughed, incredulous. “Did you say… stealth tactics?”

“Stealth tactics,” Clara answered on the screen, folding her arms, “yes, that’s what I said.”

“And I presume,” Ashildr smiled cheekily, “by,” she made quotation marks with her fingers, “stealth tactics, what you actually mean is…” Ashildr paused, “being very quiet.”

Clara shook her head minutely, training her eyeballs on Ashildr. “That’s not what I said.”

“You really shouldn’t have bothered trying to be quiet, you know,” Ashildr laughed, watching Clara’s face.

“It was the only way we could get in here, actually,” Clara replied curtly, “not that you’ve been much use at all today.”

“Oh yes,” Ashildr fired back sarcastically, “look at me, not being useful, disabling one of the two very large nuclear reactors that are about to explode. I’ll try to make tomorrow more productive.”

Clara folded her arms, saying nothing, trying not to rise to the provocation. 

“No matter,” Ashildr continued, “all I was saying was you didn’t need to be quiet.”

“And how would you know?” Clara creased her eyebrows, folding her arms tighter. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Because,” said Ashildr with a smirk, “that guard won’t be troubling anything for at least a day.”

“Why?” said Clara, with a suspicious look on her face. “Oh no…” she said as her mind raced through possibilities, “what did you do?”

“Nothing,” Ashildr said sweetly, “although I may… have given him a water tablet laced with quite the powerful sedative,” she smiled.

“So now you’re going around poisoning people?” Clara said, incredulous, “that’s not the way we do things-”

“Isn’t it?” Ashildr raised an eyebrow, a smiled tracing her lips.

“No,” Clara said sternly, “it’s not. We will need to have a serious chat about the sort of things that are permitted-”

“Umm… Clara,” Ashildr said quietly.

“Don’t interrupt me!” Clara snapped back, “the things that are permitted whilst we are on one of these… things, because,” she paused for breath, “whilst it might be perfectly acceptable for you to go around poisoning people-”

“I didn’t poison him,” Ashildr sighed, “he’s just asleep, but I really think you should-”

“- and disintegrating skulls,” Clara continued, “and paying off hard up members of a murderous organisation off for information… we need to, what was it the Doctor said, umm, tread softly, we can’t just go-”

“OK,” Ashildr’s eyes widened on the screen, cutting Clara off. She took her feet off the desk and sat up in the chair, “well as much as I’ve enjoyed your lecture, I think you should probably go now.”

“Why?” Clara asked, annoyed Ashildr had interrupted her mid flow.

“Because your girlfriend can wait,” said a voice behind her said.

Clara spun around on her hell to see Mike pointing the large purple gun directly between her eyes. Delta was holding the machine gun and had it pointed at Kodey and Francis who were stood near the window with their hands up.

“The large gun being pointed at you, that’s why,” Ashildr said after a few seconds. Clara could hear the smirk in her voice and gave her an unseen sideways look. 

“I can see that, thank you very much,” said Clara sarcastically, putting her hands up in a direct reaction.

“I should probably leave you to it,” Ashildr said blankly, “try to make sure you’re at the main square by midnight as I don’t really fancy having to read the TARDIS manual to find out how to work it.”

“How sweet,” Mike sneered, “organising a date.” Delta held her position.

“Technically organising a time,” said Clara, correcting him, tilting her head, “but please do go on.”

“I wouldn’t make any dinner reservations if I were you,” Mike grinned, “or you,” he said, peering around Clara to see Ashildr.

“That’s a shame,” Ashildr replied, a twinkle in her eyes, “there’s an authentic American Diner in the plateau that I have been meaning to try for ages. I was going to get us a table.”

Clara tried to stop herself laughing once. “Is that the one where the breakfast burrito is to die for?” she said, craning her head backwards slightly, remembering what the hipster on the roof had said to her yesterday.

“Oh, you do know it,” Ashildr exclaimed, “how excellent. I’ll see you there, then.” There was a hiss of static as Ashildr’s image disappeared off the screen.

“For god’s sake, Mike,” Delta paced over and up onto the platform to stand next to Clara, indicating to him with the gun to replace her monitoring Kodey and Francis, “you’re supposed to be holding her up, not finding out what she is having for breakfast, get out of the way.” Delta moved over to look down at Clara, narrowing her eyes. “Not so tough now, are you?” She dropped the gun onto its strap, grabbing the collar of Clara’s jacket and pulling it up towards her, “you will not stop us.”

Clara fought to gain a breath as her leather jacket tightened behind her neck, punching out to Delta’s chest in retaliation.

Delta laughed, holding her grip for a minute, clearly enjoying the discomfort she was causing Clara. Delta eventually let go and threw her roughly back down into the chair, leaving Clara pawing at her neck.

Clara tried to choke out a reply but found herself unable to stop coughing.

Delta moved to the computer in front and began tapping quickly on the keyboard in front for a few seconds. “Mike,” she shouted across, “are we ready to go?”

“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Mike replied.

“Good,” Delta said, turning to the rotating lever to her left to the lower position.

A red haze filled the space, accompanied by the familiar loud siren. A countdown on the screen just visible behind Delta stated that there was one hour until the detonation.

Clara tried to get herself off the chair, finding herself pushed heavily backwards into it with the stock of the machine gun in Delta’s hands.

“Don’t you even think about it,” sneered Delta, keeping the stock pushed painfully into Clara’s chest. She used her left hand to remove the sunglasses from Clara’s collar. “And these,” she said, holding the eyewear up to Clara’s face, before letting them drop to the floor between them, “will not be any use to you now.” Delta stamped her right foot heavily down making a sharp snapping sound.

“No!” said Clara, instantly identifying the noise, still pushed down into the chair. “They were the Doctor’s,” she said before resigning herself, “one of the last things I had left of his…”

Delta laughed for a second, grinding her shoe into the ground whilst maintaining eye contact. “How… unfortunate. Good luck opening any doors now, looks like you’re stuck here.”

Clara narrowed her eyes, annoyed. Her mind began to race, thinking about ways she could get out of this situation, remembering what Ashildr had done to disable the detonation.

Delta stood up straight, reading Clara’s facial expressions changing the gun’s position in her hands to aim it at the reactor handle. “And just before you start to get any ideas,” she smiled before nonchalantly squeezing the trigger to fire a shower of ear splitting shots at the mechanism, causing it to fizz and spark up. Delta moved to the bank of computers, and typed a few slow letters into the keyboard.

The long grey metal shutters to Clara’s left began to rise with a rhythmic clunking sound. Clara noticed the red spray painted lettering she had been unable to see earlier said ‘ESCAPE POD’.

“So I guess you’re not planning to stick around then?” Clara said to Delta.

“It would appear not,” Delta replied sarcastically. She stood in front over the computer and fired at the equipment until the bullets ran out, leaving the residual casings rattling on the surfaces around. “Shame the same can’t be said for you three.” 

The handle and the screen both settled with a crackle of electricity and a large puff of residual white smoke, clearly now completely destroyed and useless.

Delta threw the now empty machine gun to her right, it slid across the desk surface and out of view, clattering onto the concrete floor off the platform.

The grey shutters raised to reveal a small white transportation pod at the same level as the floor. A vertical hatch style door was open upwards, displaying two white plastic chairs in front of a bank of switches and data dials. Four grey rocket burners covered the back surface.

Delta took one last sneering look at Clara, putting her hands onto the arms of the chair either side, pulling her face level. “Good try, I will give you that,” Delta purred, “it really is a shame you’re going to die in here along with everyone else.”

“Feel good, does it?” Clara replied. “Knowing you’re sentencing almost a billion people to their deaths?” She tried to stare her out.

“My conscience is clear,” Delta snapped back. “We’re doing this for the right reasons.”

“Maybe it is now,” Clara nodded to herself, “but what about tomorrow when the police start looking for who caused this? What about in a year when the anniversary is commemorated? What about in five years if you have children and one day one of them asks you about it because they learnt about it at school? What about in twenty years when you meet someone who lost all of their family today? I promise you it will begin to eat you up from the inside, I should know-”

“How would you know?” Delta interrupted.

“Because I travelled with a man,” Clara indicated her eyes downwards, “the man that owned those sunglasses, he was ready to press a button that was going to kill his entire race and his decision stayed with him for his entire life.”

“What happened?” Delta remained close.

“He didn’t do it,” Clara replied.

“Well then,” Delta smirked, “he must have been a very weak man.”

“A weak man?” Clara laughed, “he was not a weak man. He was far from a weak man. He was the strongest, most kind, most incredible man I ever met. He didn’t press the button because I persuaded him not to.”

“So where is he then?” Delta asked.

“I don’t know,” Clara sighed. “He forgot all about me.”

“You are quite forgettable,” Delta reflected, “your large wide brown eyes and pretty round face might have worked on him,” Delta smiled, “but they certainly will not work on me.”

“OK, then,” Clara folded her arms, “but tomorrow when you wake up consumed with guilt about how many people you killed it will be a part of you for the rest of your life.”

“I will be rich beyond my wildest dreams,” Delta smiled, “and you will be embers in the vast expanse of space.”

“We need to leave, Delta,” Mike said as he continued pointing the large purple gun at Kodey and Francis, stepping backwards towards the shutters, “stop showing off.”

“Well, can I just say,” Clara decided to try one more tactic, “I hope you enjoy your money, and every time you buy something I hope you remember how many people you murdered to get it.”

“I shall,” Delta stood up straight and walked with clipped footsteps towards Mike’s position. “Thank you for your advice.”

Clara stood up, waving some residual smoke away from her face and made her way down the platform in pursuit.

“Do you have my data?” Delta said sideways to Mike, picking up a small black clutch bag from a nearby desk.

Mike retrieved a credit card sized black cartridge from the front left pocket of his grey hooded top and held it out to her. “Yes I do.”

Delta took the cartridge and placed it into her bag. “Well then,” she said, snapping shut the clasp, “let’s get out of here.”

“I can’t let you do this,” said Clara once she reached the floor, taking a risk and hoping she would not be shot in the process.

Delta and Mike edged backwards, now six feet away from the escape pod.

“You don’t have a choice,” Mike said with a wide grin, “we’re out of here.”

“We’ve both got a copy of the data,” Delta said, “so you won’t be able to get it.”

“We can’t stop them,” said Francis, “can we?” He moved to stand on Clara’s left, walking towards the escape pod with his arms up.

Kodey remained where he was, as if paralysed with fright. “We are doomed!”

“Shh Kodey,” Clara said backwards to him.

Delta slipped in through the escape pod door behind Mike, sitting in the white chair furthest away, throwing her bag behind her. “Hope you enjoy the view for the next hour or so.”

“We can try to get out,” said Clara, “maybe I can hurry up the evacuation?”

“Yeah,” said Mike laughing, “except that door,” he tilted his head left towards the only exit, “won’t open if the reactor is armed. So try again.” His back hit the side of the escape pod as he continued to train the gun on Clara, Kodey and Francis. He removed his backpack off his left shoulder, moving the gun to his left hand to shrug the bag off his right arm, slinging it onto the white plastic seat directly behind him with a soft thump.

The cockpit of the escape pod displayed an eerie blue illumination from the controls as Mike positioned himself to sit sideways on the seat.

Mike moved the backpack onto his lap and unzipped a pocket on the left hand side as he swung his legs around, throwing the gun behind him, tapping at some controls in front.

The escape pod door began to lower with a metallic hiss.

“Goodbye,” Mike shouted once the door was almost halfway, casually throwing a small black egg shaped object out of the hatch of the escape pod. It went over Clara’s head, past Kodey and Francis towards the black glass wall skittering at least fifty metres down the room. “Hope you enjoy the view!” he laughed like a hyena for a few seconds before turning his attention to the controls in front.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dum... dum... duuuuummmm...
> 
> How are they going to escape?


	65. Chapter 65

Ashildr turned off the video feed, casting her eyes to Victor on the floor to her right. 

His mouth was hanging down limply, his eyes were rolled back and he was slumped against the outer edge of the platform. A plastic restraint around his left wrist cut in heavily to the skin, anchoring him against a metal desk support.

Ashildr stood up, throwing the heavy black gloves off to the right next to the gas masks with a dull thud. She made her way over to Victor standing above him, observing his large frame with her arms folded debating whether she had delivered a fatal blow. After a short internal debate with herself she decided to feel his neck for a pulse with the index and middle finger of her left hand, finding a bounding heartbeat after a few miniscule readjustments.

“Yes,” Ashildr sighed to herself, a little relieved Clara would not be able to add the word murderer to the list of indiscretions she had reeled off earlier. She began to take her wrist away when Victor’s eyes snapped open and his free right hand locked onto her left wrist in a vice like grip.

“Little…” Victor breathed out, “girl.” He twisted her left arm backwards until there was a loud snap.

Ashildr yelped at the unexpected pain, feeling her wrist go numb as an unnatural ninety-degree bend appeared in her arm.

“Stupid… little… girl,” Victor hissed, a few errant flecks of spit flying from his mouth towards Ashildr’s face.

“Get off me,” winced Ashildr, trying to wrestle her arm from Victor’s grip,.

“I will… hunt you down… like dog…” Victor groaned, muscles visibly tensing under his grey sweater, “little girl.” He pulled Ashildr’s diminutive frame roughly towards him, forcing her knees to the ground.

“You’ve lost,” said Ashildr, starting to feel her arm repair itself, “I hope you realise that,” she strained out against his hold.

“I may have,” Victor said defiantly, right eyelid twitching as he spoke, held mere inches from Ashildr’s, “but you should know Russians do not go down without a fight…” his eyes sneered, “little girl.”

“Stop calling me a little girl,” Ashildr snapped back.

“Stupid…” Victor said, letting go of Ashildr’s arm, “unobservant… little girl.” His right hand shifted quickly to her left, immediately locating the trigger of the machine gun that he had quietly positioned since being assaulted.

Ashildr found the barrel of the gun instantly pressed against the tendons of her neck as her left arm straightened with a loud snap.

Victor watched on in amazement at the spectacle, creasing his eyebrows. “How do you do that?”

“It’s a thing stupid little girls do,” Ashildr replied sarcastically as confidently as she could muster, raising her chin to try and recoil from the gun.

“How dare you answer back to me!” Victor said, his head lolling slightly. “How dare… you,” his words began to slur.  
Ashildr shuffled backwards a few feet on her knees, aware that she was not restrained and technically could just run away.

Victor squeezed the trigger, rapidly discharging seven bullets in the direction of Ashildr’s head. Three of the shots caught her squarely in the neck and jaw. “If I don’t live,” he said watching her like a hawk, a thin trickle of blood began to pool underneath his right nostril, “you don’t live.”

Ashildr felt the impact, tearing her skin and sending a searing pain to every corner of her body. A large plume of blood spurted onto the ceiling above as she scrabbled to place her hands onto the gaping wound. She collapsed to the floor, screaming in agony, her fingertips coated in warm blood.

Victor laughed ferociously for a few seconds, his eyes wide. “I want to watch you bleed to death,” he said, staring her out. A trickle of dark red blood ran down from his nose to his top lip once it was large enough to resist gravitational pull. He fired several more shots at Ashildr’s head, missing her completely initially, the bullets embedding in the grey concrete floor, the metal handrail near the window and pinging off various surrounding desks.

A well-aimed bullet found its way directly between Ashildr’s eyes, instantly rendering her incoherent. She writhed around on the ground, dizzy with pain, clutching at her head as a dark mist settled over her vision.

……………

 

Clara immediately looked around trying to work out what to do. Realising after a few seconds the object that had been thrown was a grenade she instinctively dropped to the ground and held her head, knowing any attempt to run would be futile. “Get down, both of you!” she shouted.

Kodey tracked the pulsade with his eyes as the egg shape and after a few seconds began sprinting towards it. He slipped on the floor and ended up sliding along the smooth concrete on his left thigh to draw level with the small black object.

“We’re done!” hollered Francis, heading for the automatic door. “We need to run!”

“That door won’t open!” Clara bellowed, “not whilst the reactor is armed! Francis, get down on the floor!” She held her position on the ground, bracing herself for impact, desperately hoping something would happen.

“What do we do?” Francis said.

“We wait,” Clara said, her head covered, “umm… we wait for a thing… some… thing will happen and we will all be saved. I don’t know what that thing is but I really, really hope it is going to happen soon.”

Kodey reached into his right pocket and after a moment produced the end cap he had kept from the earlier charge as his momentum faltered. He picked up the pulsade, showing the number ‘1’ in white lettering on the outside. “I can’t turn it off! It’s got to one!” he exclaimed, placing the mushroom shaped end cap into the flat surface of the grenade, rotating it with a small click to display ‘2’, putting them out of immediate danger, “but I can delay it.”

Francis banged on the entrance door, unable to find any way to open it. “No no no!”

The hatch on the escape pod had almost closed, with the grey shutter grates rapidly falling with a harsh metallic clunk.

Kodey got up ungracefully to his feet, pulling out the pin and jogged to be parallel with the hatch opening. He quickly skimmed the pulsade along the smooth floor to spin expertly into the escape pod just before it sealed.

The grey shutter closed by grinding to a juddering halt several seconds later, leaving just the siren from the armed reactor ringing in the air.

“It’s OK,” Kodey said with an air of complete surprise, “I think…” he paused, running his right hand over his head, “we might be OK.”

Clara risked a look up from the floor. “What?” she said, “what have you done?”

Francis turned around, leaning back on the door, his sweaty blonde hair flopping down as he put his hands on his knees.

“It’s gone,” Kodey said, a little out of breath.

“What’s gone?” Clara said, raising herself off the floor using her arms.

“The pulsade,” Kodey pointed towards the closed grey shutter, “I threw it back.”

Clara was about to reply where there was a loud low rumbling rattle that shuddered through space, followed by a sharp fizzling crack and then a bright illumination to the right of the black window. She got to her feet by kneeling and pulling herself up on a nearby desk.

The escape pod blasted forward to be clear of the hatch, the vehicle frame obscured by a white, blue and purple plume of ignition burners tearing across the length of the window, moving to the left with the rotation of the structure. A few stray blue sparks hit the outer surface of the glass. 

Clara caught sight of Mike’s sneering face in the window of the vehicle as she paced slowly towards the surface of the glass, putting her hands on the metal rail that Delta and herself had previously been attached to. Mike blew Clara a kiss before laughing silently, leaving Clara unable to stop her facial features contorting into a grimace. The shuddering vibrations stopped, leaving just the vague siren from the computer screen ringing in the background.

The white pod drifted to the left for a few moments as it straightened up and then shot off at breakneck speed forward with a white light so bright it made Clara’s retinas ache, causing her to cover her face with her right forearm. She turned her head away from the light as it subsided into the distance.

“What do you mean,” Clara said, blinking, rubbing her eyes, trying to subdue the red spots in her vision, “you threw it back?”

Kodey stood on her left, pointing out of the window in the direction of the pod, his face half illuminated against the expanse of black around him.

Francis stayed against the door, inspecting some of the rips in the right sleeve of his jacket nonchalantly.

Clara turned to look outside, still able to make out the trail of illumination disappearing into the distance. She placed her hand on the smooth glass, imagining it to be cool underneath her palm, when she noticed the white dot in the distance had turned into an intense ball of orange and red light, doubling in size every second.

“There,” Kodey swallowed heavily, hanging his head down and placing it against the glass and banging it several times.

“What’s happening?” asked Francis, moving to stand on Clara’s right.

The long window served as a perfect panorama for the explosion, travelling across to the left as the centre’s gravity turned, large enough to engulf almost half of the width of the window.

“My god…” Francis said under his breath.

Clara went to say something, balling her fist against the pane, feeling an immediate pang of sadness as the orange illumination quickly subsided into nothing as quickly as it had appeared, returning the window to its original deep black state. “No,” she said quietly, searching into the distance for remains, unable to see anything.

“I didn’t mean to kill them,” Kodey said, not moving his head from the window.

“I know,” Clara tapped her fingernails of her right hand on the glass a couple of times, extending her left arm to touch Kodey gently on the shoulder, “I know.”

“It was the only way,” Kodey said, his voice faltering, “I did it to protect us..” he trailed off.

“You did good, mate,” Francis offered from the other side of Clara.

Clara turned around to give Francis a sideways warning look. “You did what you had to do,” she held his right upper arm.

Kodey faced Clara and hugged her tightly, clear he was tearful. “I killed them,” he breathed.

“Woah, woah,” Clara leant back, only to find herself brought back into Kodey’s grasp. “It’s OK.” She aimed her eyes around, patting his back softly.

“I’m pretty grateful you did what you did,” Francis put his left hand on Kodey’s right shoulder, “I’m sure everyone else in here is too.”

Kodey stood up away from Clara, pushing his nostrils together and inhaling heavily as he nodded to himself.

“Pretty impressive slide you did on the floor though,” Francis laughed once.

Kodey looked down to his left thigh, brushing off some dust as he held the material of his jeans away from his leg.

“Slide?” Clara asked, creasing her eyebrows, smiling, “I’m a bit annoyed I missed that-”

A loud crackle of static came from the other side of the room, rising audibly over the continuing bleeping from the reactor being armed.

“Captain Oswald!” came a female voice from the large screen, “Captain Oswald, are you there?”

“Hello?” Clara spun around on her heel, unconsciously putting her hands in her empty jacket pockets. The screen was covered in a black and white haze that focussed on a feed which displayed Trudi on the left and Leon on the right.

“Yes Leon,” Trudi smiled, tapping his right shoulder, “we’ve got it!”

Clara walked in quick footsteps up to the platform in the direction the large grey chair, leaving Francis and Kodey behind her. She took off her jacket and set it on the side desk to the left of the burnt out handle and computer. Her right foot crunched against something as she made to sit down, immediately recoiling when she realised they were the sunglasses. “Oh no, no…” Clara crouched down to the floor and retrieved the eyewear, picking them up to notice the majority of the frame still intact but with the left arm hanging limply and the left lens pushed out, now a collection of splintered black glass on the ground. “No,” she folded them up and rested them on her jacket, looking at them, one of the last mementos she had of the Doctor ruined by a rogue stiletto. A small tear began forming in the side of her right eye as the realisation hit her.

“Everything OK, Captain?” Trudi asked.

Clara nodded her head tightly, placing her right middle finger up to her eye to dab away the moisture before it ran down her cheek. “Yes, yes,” she smiled slightly, “everything is OK.”

“Good,” said Leon, politely waving from the screen, “how are you getting on?”

“Not good, not bad,” Clara said blankly, pointing to the charred handle on her left, “they’ve armed this nuclear reactor and blown up the controls that could turn it off.”

“And where are they now?” Trudi asked, her eyes scanning the corners of the screen.

“They left in the escape pod,” Clara pointed with her thumb to the grey shutters.

“They did?” said Leon, swallowing hard, rubbing his forehead.

Francis returned to his earlier position of sitting on the desk to Clara’s left. “After chucking one of those bombs at us,” he pointed towards Kodey, “we’d be gone if it was for this hero.”

Kodey slumped into a nearby office chair to Clara’s right, he put his elbows on the desk and put his forehead down on the surface, wrapping his hands around his head. “Thanks,” he emitted quietly.

“How did you manage that?” Trudi asked, blushing as she noticed Francis on the screen.

“He lobbed the thing back into the escape pod,” Francis explained, “and then,” he pointed to the black window, mimicking an explosion, “it went-”

“Francis,” Clara said loudly, reading Kodey’s evident body language that he wanted to be left alone, “let’s just say Taylor Swift and Harry Potter have left the building and the data they took with them was caught up in the explosion. Anyway,” she changed the subject, “how are you guys getting on?”

“I followed all of the instructions on the letter,” Trudi held up a few individual papers, “we’ve started the Code Black response-”

“Yes, what is that?” Clara interrupted, curious, “you said it had never been tested, so what happens?”

“It appears the plateau,” Leon answered, pointing to the ceiling, “the big square upstairs,” he paused, “is itself an escape pod.”

Francis and Clara both raised their eyebrows at the same time.

“You’re joking?” Francis laughed slightly. “The whole place?” He whistled.

“So if we get everyone in there we can just take off?” Clara said, folding her arms, tilting her head.

“In theory,” Trudi bit her bottom lip as she read the piece of paper in front of her, “yes, but-”

“Why is there always a ‘but’?” Clara said to herself.

“But,” Trudi repeated slowly, “according to this, in order for you leave where you are you have to disable the reactor and it seals fifteen minutes before the evacuation, so,” she paused, checking her watch unconsciously, “you need to be in there by 11.45pm.”

“Ok,” said Clara, casting her eyes to the clock on the red panel that said ‘REACTOR ARMED’. It was 21.36. “So we’ve got two hours to stop the detonation and get out of here… and travel five hundred miles. Well, that’s just great,” she said sarcastically.

“It’s impossible,” groaned Kodey from Clara’s right. “I am never going to see my family again, am I?”

“Impossible girl, right here,” Clara said over her shoulder, “please stop me saying that, I’ve done it twice in the last hour now,” she said under her breath, returning her gaze in front, “don’t suppose there are detailed instructions on how exactly we disable a nuclear reactor in that stack of papers you have, is there?” she asked half sarcastically, “because this is probably not the best time to mention I haven’t quite finished my PhD in particle physics.”

“Well, now you mention it-” Leon said, a small smile creeping on to his face.

“No way,” Francis interjected.

“You’re joking!” Clara said, arms folded tightly, laughing once, “seriously? There are instructions on how to turn off a nuclear reactor in there?”

“No,” Leon replied, still grinning, “however-”

“Oh,” Clara said, a little crestfallen.

“However,” Leon repeated slower, “it says I should give you a message.”

“A message?” Clara blinked once, “what message?” She put her hands on the desk in front, rolling the chair forwards a few inches.

Trudi sniggered to herself as she fiddled with a few controls off the left side of the screen.

“What?” Clara asked, annoyed that there was clearly something going on that she didn’t know about.

“It says,” Leon cleared his throat, covering his mouth with his right fist briefly, “when Clara asks if there are instructions on how to disable the reactor as she invariably will do-”

“Thank you,” Clara said over him.

“- after saying that she probably hasn’t finished her degree in nuclear science or something like that, you should tell her that no instructions are needed.” Leon looked up from the paper he was holding.

“And that’s it?” Clara snapped, annoyed. “Well forgive me for not exuding enthusiasm for that helpful guide,” she observed sarcastically as she rubbed her temples.

“Once Clara has reflected on this information-” Leon continued. 

“Who the hell has written this letter?” Clara asked out loud.

“-tell her to go to the Plant Room and find the laser ignition thrusters-” Leon read from the beige letter.

“Laser ignition thrusters?” Kodey repeated to Clara’s right, lifting his head. “Did you say laser ignition thrusters?”

“That’s what it says here,” Leon answered, re-reading.

“Why?” Clara asked, spinning her chair to the right to look at him.

“I’ve been working on building a machine like that for the last six years,” Kodey stood up, pulling the sleeves of his red jumper past his elbows, “it doesn’t exist yet, it’s a top secret military project that’s still in the development stage.”

Clara looked back to Leon on the screen quickly, “what else does it say?”

“Umm…” Leon paused, holding up the letter to the screen, “find the laser ignition thrusters and repair them.”

“They’re broken?” Clara laughed, incredulous, “of course they are. What are these? Great British Bake Off Technical Challenge instructions, for god’s sake?” she mused. “But anyway, please go on.”

“That’s it,” Leon said, looking at the back of the sheet of paper, “nothing else.”

“I stand by my original assessment that those instructions are less than helpful,” Clara said blankly, “well I guess we’re in for a trip to the Plant Room, then.”

“Nothing else-” Leon repeated, “apart from-”

The video feed had Leon and Trudi’s image scrolling from top to bottom repeatedly for a few seconds before it crackled away to nothing, leaving just the red screen that declared ‘REACTOR ARMED’.

“Apart from what?” Clara asked at the screen, putting her palms on the surface loudly.

“Can you get it back?” Francis asked, standing up, hopping down off the desk.

Clara looked down at the controls, holding her hands over them, fingers twitching, realising they were now just a large pile of embers. She shook her head, noticing the time was 21.53. “It’s getting late,” she sighed, “we need to try and fix whatever this thing is.”

“You mean the thing that’s a top secret military fuel power that hasn’t even been built yet,” Kodey offered, “which I cannot begin to understand how has turned up in the nuclear reactor of the shopping centre I visited today?”

“Yes,” Clara said with a smile, “that thing. See it on your travels earlier did you?”

“I saw a room with lots of complicated looking equipment,” Francis laughed, making his way off the platform.

“Let’s go then,” Clara stood up, following Francis towards the small door he and Kodey had disappeared through earlier.

Clara trailed behind, Kodey to her right, through a long claustrophobic corridor that seemed exclusively covered with wiring on every surface.

“Here,” Francis said, pushing open a white door to his right. “This way.”

Clara inspected the small room, walking into the centre of it with her arms folded. She looked up to the ceiling and then around to the various computerised equipment. “Recognise anything?” she said to Kodey.

“No,” he said, scratching his fingernails down his right forearm gently, before pausing, “yes, yes! Here!” He approached an innocuous stainless steel box, three feet on each edge with a glass panel in the centre, attached to the front of a larger twelve foot high cylinder. Next to the box was a panel of dials, buttons, a small keyboard and a three inch wide inactive computer screen.

“Excellent,” Clara nodded, moving take a closer look. “What’s it do?”

“It’s essentially a power generator… it’s not exactly the same as the one we’re building, but if I can find the switch…” Kodey stood in front of the small panel of controls, searching the top and right hand surface of a large metal casing with his palm until he stopped, his fingers locating a twistable power switch. He turned the mechanism, causing the screen to glow white and the glass panel to emit a pulsing red hue. “Yes,” he said, “although… that red light is not supposed to happen.”

“It’s not?” Francis said, confused.

“No…” Kodey said quietly, putting his left hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the strong red glow as he peered inside the glass. He moved back to the controls and turned off the machine, before opening the casing of the stainless steel box.

“What’s wrong?” Clara asked, lazing her fingers over a couple of the buttons below the computer screen.  
Kodey sighed to himself as he put his right hand carefully inside the machine. “The laser diffractor is broken,” he said, pulling out a small inch and a half wide washer-like object that was folded along the diameter. He banged his head against the metal casing of the control panel. “That’s it. We’re finished.”

“How do we fix it?” Clara said, nervously looking around. They still had to fix this mechanism and get back to the plateau five hundred miles away.

“We don’t,” Kodey shook his head, leaning his weight onto the outer tube. “Unless you can make me something that looks exactly like this,” he threw Clara the twisted washer, “made out of solid marble.”

Clara caught it between her hands. “How handy are we all with a chisel?” Clara joked to Francis, holding the disc up to the light, knowing it was a lost cause as it snapped into four pieces under her touch. “Come on, we cannot give up, there has to be something we can do.” She looked inside the machine, dropping the marble to the floor with a small clink. “There… has… to be something,” she said quietly. “Oh, come on, who am I kidding, I’m not the Doctor or the Captain or anyone. I’m a woman from Blackpool, a teacher…”

Kodey leant back against the tube and slid down to the floor. “Now I know we are all going to die.”

Clara walked to the nearest wall in front of her and put her crossed forearms forward, leaning her head onto the wires. “You know,” she said to Kodey and Francis, “I just really thought I could do it.”

“Do what?” Francis asked, perching on a waist high grey electrical box to Clara’s right.

“Save everyone,” Clara answered. “I saw the Doctor… I saw him save worlds without batting an eyelid. He always acted like he didn’t know what was happening but you always knew he’d win in the end,” she lifted up her head, “solve whatever problem was happening, be very arrogant about it and then swan off and do it all again the next time. He always left it to the last minute but you always knew he’d fix it. I just have to accept that I’m not him. I really thought I could manage,” she felt a small tear trickle down the left side of her face, planting her head back on her arms, “and now I know I can’t.”

“You said you’d be able to save everyone…” Kodey trailed off. “I’m not going to see Hadija or Luna ever again, am I?”

“I’m sorry,” Clara said quietly, turning around to put her back against the wall, hanging her head down, inspecting her fingernails. “I’m sorry.”

“Well at least you tried,” said Kodey.

“You know,” Francis said, taking off his jacket, folding it up and laying it on his right thigh, “he’s right.” He undid the buttons on his right grey shirt cuff, folding it up twice and then pushing it up to his elbow. “My dad says every time there’s a problem, the solution is always the last thing you try.” He watched his hand as it smoothed down the rolled up cuff, letting out a single laugh. “What’s the last thing we’re trying?”

“I’m all out of ideas,” Clara sighed, brushing off some dust off her jacket’s right forearm. “I wish I had something else to try.”

Francis unbuttoned his left cuff, folding up the sleeve. He paused to run his hands through his sweaty matted hair. “I guess that’s it then,” he leaned back against the wall.

“Yeah,” Clara paced slowly towards Francis, hopping up to sit on his left.

“There was a moment when I thought to myself I could do this,” Clara said almost to herself. “Yesterday, I was captured by paper that was alive, Ashildr… Sheila, whatever, she found me and then we ended up fighting my evil twin-”

“Your… evil twin?” sniggered Francis. “You have an evil twin?”

“Really?” said Kodey, “you never mentioned that.”

“Yeah, creature called a Zygon took my form. Bit weird. Anyway, after I parachuted off a one hundred floor high crane with a paper parachute-”

“Paper parachute?” Kodey laughed, “how did that work?”

“Surprisingly well,” Clara chuckled to herself, “until I fell in a lake.”

“Obviously,” Francis stated.

“So I went back in time,” Clara sighed, “oh I don’t know why I’m telling you this, well I do, my mouth has a mind of its own when I end up in difficult situations.” She felt to where her jacket pockets would have been had she not left it on the desk in the other room. “What even is the time by the way?” she asked out loud. “How long do we have before our impending doom?”

“10.02pm,” said Francis, aiming the face of the watch at Clara for her to see.

“Just under two hours,” Clara said as she held Francis’s wrist gently in her hands. “You know,” she said, “your dad has excellent taste in watches.” The silver metal still sparkled in the lights, the green face twinkling behind several scuff marks on the glass face. She gazed at the time, praying he was wrong, finding he wasn’t. 

“Yeah,” Francis said. “Shame I’ll never see him again to tell him that.”

Clara released her grip on the watch, letting out a louder than intended sigh. She turned to her left, noticing a shiny piece of mirrored metal attached to a nearby machine, watching the blurry reflection as she ran her right hand through her matted hair. She was squinting in its direction when something suddenly occurred to her. 

“Oh my god!!” Clara shouted loudly, immediately standing up. “How could I be so useless?!”

“What?” Kodey said weakly from the floor. 

“What is it?” Francis raised his immaculate eyebrows.

“The answer to our problem,” she said in a low voice, a smile creeping over her features as she began savouring this moment of pure realisation. “It’s staring me in the face!”


	66. Chapter 66

“Well, I say staring me in the face,” Clara grinned, spinning around, twitching her fingers. “It was staring me in the face just now.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Francis, creasing his eyebrows. He moved to look in the reflective piece of metal Clara had just been facing in the direction of, trying to figure out what she’d seen.

“Your watch,” Clara pointed down.

“My watch?” Francis said, looking down at it and back at her.

“More specifically…” Clara paused for effect, “the tiny piece of marble that’s inside the face of your watch.”

“What?” said Kodey from the floor, interest piqued. “What did you just say?”

“Yep,” Clara smiled, hands on her hips. “Looks to me like it should be just about the right size.”

Kodey stood up and joined Clara in front of Francis, eyes searching for the watch.

“Rack off,” said Francis, incredulous, snatching his wrist away, “you can’t have my watch! My dad will throw a wobbly!”

“I don’t think you have a choice,” Clara said smirking, holding out her right hand palm up in front of Francis. “Kodey,” she aimed sideways in a blasé tone, “go see if you can find something to break Francis’s watch with.”

“Yes… yes,” Kodey immediately ventured out to the other room.

“No, no,” sighed Francis, turning the timepiece around on his wrist, “you can’t have this. I have had it since my eighteenth birthday.” He stared at the green face behind the ticking second hand.

“We need a piece of marble in order to get out of here,” Clara said, still holding out her right hand, left hand nonchalantly on her hip. “It’s at least worth a try.”

Francis groaned loudly, folding his arms and leaning backwards onto the wall behind him. He looked up to the ceiling and closed his eyes. “My dad is going to kill me,” he said, banging the rear of his head.

“He might,” Clara nodded, balling her left hand into a fist and placing it on her waist, “but at least you’ll be able to use the excuse that you broke it whilst saving almost a billion people. My dad wouldn’t even try to argue with me if I told him that… Linda, his girlfriend, she might,” Clara reflected, pointing with her right hand, “because she could start an argument in a paper bag if you gave her the chance. Or the bag,” she said with a small smile.

Francis held his position for a few more seconds, inhaling and exhaling heavily. “Is this the only option?”

“Well unless you can see another watch sized piece of marble just lying around?” Clara cast her eyes across the room with a sideways smile, snapping her eyes back to Francis. “Yes,” she returned her hand to hold it out in front of him.

Francis nodded to himself, dropping his head. “You know, the woman in the shop said I had to keep it with me-” Francis started, rotating the watch around.

“The,” Clara’s ears picked out a phrase which she had become familiar with, “umm… woman in the shop? What woman in… which shop?” She examined his facial expressions.

“When my dad bought it,” Francis looked down at the silver watch as he undid the clasp with his right hand with the smallest of clicks, “he bought it a size too big and I had to get a link taken out.” He ran his thumb over the exposed metal.

“I had to do the same with my mum’s ring,” Clara tried to reassure him, “when she died.”

“Which one is it?” Francis asked, removing the watch from his wrist, pointing at two rings on Clara’s hands.

“Oh,” Clara stretched out her fingers on both hands, laughing once, “these I picked up in Camden Market one Saturday. I don’t wear it anymore.”

“Why?” Francis looked at her.

“Oh, well,” Clara smiled to herself, “the first time I went out with the Doctor he kind of sold it for an intergalactic space moped from a woman…” Clara paused tilting her head, creasing her eyebrows, “or at least I think she was a woman, called Dor’een who only communicated through dog barks when we went to a pyramid to save the Queen Of Years.”

Francis sat with his mouth open unsure of what to say. “Umm… OK then,” he said after a few seconds.

“I managed to get it back though, after they let me have it back to say thank you,” Clara replied, “but after most outings turned out to be equally as dangerous I got into the habit of not wearing it and just leaving it in my room so he wouldn’t end selling it or melting it down or exchanging it for chips or something.” Clara tried to remember whether she had brought it with her into the new TARDIS, shaking herself out of the daydream. “Anyway,” Clara smirked, “you were saying, you know,” she paused, “about the woman in the shop?”

“The Sheila in the shop told me it was one of a kind and that I had to keep it with me” Francis stared at the watch, “and not let it out of my sight.” He handed it over to Clara reluctantly.

“I’m very suspicious of mysterious women in shops,” Clara said to herself, taking the warm heavy metal watch from him, thinking about what the Doctor had said to Ashildr when he had visited her after they escaped from Gallifrey. “What did she look like-”

“Will this do?” Kodey returned holding a large heavy silver canister the shape of a fire extinguisher, not unlike the one Ashildr had used to knock Victor out earlier, distracting Clara from her trail of thought.

“Nice, good work” Clara said, smiling at Kodey, “I think that will do perfectly.”

“She said,” Francis said, looking away, “the Sheila said that one day it would save my life.”

“What would?” asked Kodey, having not been partial to the conversation.

“The watch,” Francis answered, hitting the back of his head on the wall behind him, running his hands through his hair. 

“Oh, I see, so how do we do this?” Kodey asked, setting the canister on a nearby fuse box.

“Well,” Clara said with a small smile, “whoever this woman was might just be right.” She crouched down to place the expensive watch onto the dusty concrete floor. “Today may be that day,” she smiled up to Francis. “It should break if we drop that thing on it,” she pointed at the canister Kodey was holding, “shouldn’t it?”

“Is this really the only way?” he lowered his head off the wall, watching Clara stand upright.

“I think so,” Clara said blankly. “I’m sorry,” she said, moving in his direction, placing her right hand onto his left shoulder.

Kodey picked up the canister, aiming it above the watch, lining it up for a downward impact.

“I can’t believe-” Francis stopped as a hollow metallic clang rang through the space. He winced and stood up, turning away.

Kodey lifted the cylinder to find the watch largely still intact. He took another loud swipe at the floor which echoed around the room, denting the concrete.

“Looks like it’s putting up a fight,” Clara half joked, folding her arms and pointing.

Francis leant forward onto his arms against the wall as Kodey sounded a third blow at the watch face, hearing a new grating crunch as it was clear the glass had begun to disintegrate.

“What is this thing made of?” Kodey asked, stooping to collect the watch, now in three pieces and the glass skittering onto the floor. He set the cylinder down.

“Krytanium,” Francis groaned, punching the wall. “How am I going to explain this? What if it doesn’t work?”

Kodey shook the remnants of the shattered glass down to the floor, removing the loose back cover, retrieving the small disc of almost luminous green marble. He gently set the destroyed watch casing on a nearby ledge on his way back to the laser ignition thruster.

Clara paced away from Francis, her arms folded, catching up with Kodey as he undid the glass panel. “Do you think it’s going to fit?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” he said, pulling up the left sleeve of his red jumper past his elbow. He held the small piece of marble between his left thumb and forefinger and placed his whole arm back inside the machine.

Clara watched him silently as he stuck his tongue out a little with intense concentration.

“No…” Kodey said, his face changing suddenly to a surprised expression. “No… what… how- how- how is that possible?”

“What?” Clara replied, a small smile creeping on to her face, “that we’ve somehow managed to come across a tiny piece of marble in a watch that,” she pointed with her right thumb, looking at Francis, “he’s had on his wrist since his 18th birthday that fits in this machine that you’ve been working on for most of your life that doesn’t even exist yet but has somehow found its way into the nuclear reactor inside a shopping centre you were visiting and that you both ended up here having never met before today?”

“Yes,” said Kodey after a beat, “how is that possible?”

“No idea,” Clara said blankly, “but these things had a habit of happening when I travelled with the Doctor, and if I learnt anything we need to just accept it.”

“So it fits then?” Francis added from the other side of the room. He stepped towards the remnants of his broken watch, trying to find a way to mend the twisted metal.

“It does,” Kodey said at the glass door, closing it shut. “Looks like that lady was right.”

“So this machine,” Clara flicked her eyes around the glass, “what does it do?”

“We are designing it as a power source,” Kodey scratched his head for a second, before locating his right hand onto the twist switch. “But in here, I have no idea. I really hope this works,” he sighed to himself.

“Me too,” Francis said behind Clara, having moved to join them. “Otherwise you are telling my dad.”

Kodey looked towards Clara and then Francis, nodding slightly before engaging the mechanism with a loud clunk.


	67. Chapter 67

Clara looked around, expecting something to happen, disappointed when the machine simply whirred into accelerating action with a noise she would have associated with an air conditioning vent.

“Is it supposed to make that sound?” Francis asked, backing off towards the wall he had been leaning against earlier.

“Honestly?” Kodey replied, taking his hands away from the small keypad, turning to face Francis, “I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I’ve never actually got it to work before.”

Clara watched the screen intently, trying to glean any information she could. She noticed the word ‘INITIATING’ written on the panel in small white capital letters above a percentage marking rapidly increasing towards one hundred.

Kodey put his hands in his pockets as the machine continued to trundle away. He looked up to the ceiling a couple of times expectantly as if he was pleading with the gods. “Please, get me back to my family… please.”

The screen displayed the word ‘COMPLETE’ once it had reached the end of sequence.

“What is it doing?” asked Clara, moving to peer inside the glass-doored chamber. “What’s complete?” She paced around the machine in search of any moving parts, finding nothing.

“I really don’t know,” Kodey said, scratching his head. “I think it might be-”

A loud whooping siren sounded from outside the room, causing Francis, Clara and Kodey to turn around simultaneously.

Clara was first to investigate after a conversation with glances towards the others, folding her arms and taking short footsteps, her eyes wide to the surroundings. She approached the doorway and looked left and then right, noticing a green stripe on the concrete floor with a moving arrow, disappearing to the right towards a junction on the left further down the corridor.

‘Emergency Transmission in progress,” boomed an authoritative female voice from the ceiling above. ‘Please follow the exit lines to the Emergency Transmission Area.’

“It’s OK,” shouted Clara between the spurts of the alarm, putting her right hand up to her ear, “I think… it’s trying to… get us out!”

Francis stuffed the remnants of his broken watch into his pocket as he picked up his green jacket from the nearby electricity box, carrying it bunched up in his right fist. He followed Kodey out into the corridor.

Kodey immediately ventured in the direction of the line, swiftly pacing right along the walkway in front of Clara. He took the left turn, which brought them towards a dark industrial looking room.

“This wasn’t here earlier,” Francis said behind Clara, barely audible due to the ongoing alarm.

“What?” Kodey shouted back, as he stepped down a set of three grey metal ladder stairs, following the path of the green line emblazoned on the floor. He held out his left hand to help Clara towards the lower level.

The small room had an impossibly high ceiling, covered in a sprawling network of pipes and there was the faint aroma of petrol in the air. Several pipes were emitting steam around the perimeter, making the green light shine like a laser through dry ice.

“I said,” Francis said, raising his voice, holding his left hand next to his mouth, “this wasn’t… here earlier!” He jumped athletically in one stride to the floor, landing like a cat. He casually unrolled his shirt sleeves one at a time and pulled his jacket on smoothly, unfazed by the physical effort.

The green arrow pointed towards the base of an automatic door which had ‘EMERGENCY TRANSMISSION’ spray painted in familiar white lettering, identical to that used in the Records Archive.

Kodey approached the doorway and it staggered open a few inches. He put both hands onto the edge of the metal and hauled the door open, sliding it smoothly to the right after a few seconds. He made to enter the small grey transmission area before stopping, indicating Clara should go first.

“No!” Clara shouted, “get yourself out! Go! We’ve only got…” she paused, going to get her phone from her pocket. She begun patting herself down, spinning around before realising her jacket was in the control room. “Oh for god’s sake,” she muttered, before saying loudly between the alarm, “I need to go back! You two go, I’ll meet you… in the square… on the other side… OK?” Clara watched Kodey and Francis examine her expressions before they nodded back. “I’ll be one minute!” She jogged the five paces towards the grey metal stairs, taking a cautionary glance back to see the door seal behind Kodey as she reached the corridor.

Clara ran quickly through the walkway, turning to her right, passing the plant room on her left and then turning to her right as she entered the control room several minutes later.

The large video screen was now covered in a green haze, declaring ‘REACTOR DISARMED’.

“Yes!” Clara said triumphantly to herself as she noticed, striding up the two steps to the raised platform.

‘Emergency Transmission closing in two minutes,’ boomed the female voice from above.

Clara rolled her eyes begrudgingly, mentally working out it would take her at least one minute to return to where she had been running at top speed. She picked up the dilapidated sonic sunglasses resting on her battered black leather jacket and held them in her right hand as she hurriedly put the garment on.

She put the glasses into her right pocket as she stepped off the platform, quickly scooping up the flapped open psychic paper and the TARDIS key from the floor near the black viewing window. Unable to immediately see her phone she searched the nearby area until she eventually spied it lying casually beneath a nearby desk next to the unfurled letter from the Records Archive.

“Phone, psychic paper, keys,” she rattled off to herself quietly as she stowed the items, patting herself down before zipping up the pockets.

‘Emergency Transmission closing in one minute. If you have not already done so, please make your way to the Emergency Transmission area.’

“OK, then,” Clara inhaled deeply, closing the main zip of her jacket in preparation before sprinting in the direction of the corridor, turning left as she exited the control centre. The walls because a dull blur as she fought to beat the time.

‘Emergency Transmission closing in thirty seconds,’ the female voice bellowed over the wailing alarm.

Clara ran past the plant room, physically fighting her mental tiredness to keep up her speed. She continued, taking the left turn indicated by the green stripe on the floor, dizzy from the change in direction, supporting herself momentarily on the far wall. She could see the door up ahead was beginning to close from the top down.

“Don’t you dare!” she shouted out loud, finding an extra ounce of energy that allowed her to throw herself quickly under the hatch, the lower surface skimming the top of her head as she dived forward into the industrial room. Clara fell, landing awkwardly on her left side on the ground, twisting her left ankle underneath her.

The exit door at the top of the stairs sealed behind with a loud hiss, somewhat muffling the ongoing siren. ‘Emergency Transmission closed.’

Clara attempted to stand upright, a grimace covering her face, succeeding on her second try as she limped gingerly in recovery towards the automatic door. It made no attempt to open as she approached.

“No, no, no!” she cried, banging on the metal door with her right fist, “come on!”

Clara stood outside the portal and inwardly begged for it to open. She leaned sideways against the wall, physically and mentally exhausted from the day’s events, rubbing her eyes. She pounded her fist limply three more times on the metal, eventually succumbing to the inevitable to bang her forehead against the sealed entryway.

‘Emergency Transmission closed,’ the female voice repeated.

“No…“ Clara groaned as she remained still for a minute, eventually moving her head up, keeping her weight off her left ankle. She tried to slide the door to the right using the pressure from her palms. She strained for a minute before, to her complete surprise, the metal jerked slightly, leaving an inch-wide gap which she was able to insert her fingertips in to. Clara heaved the door open, using her right shoulder for traction until she was able to edge inside sideways.

The six foot square room was gun metal grey on every one of the smooth surfaces, a small white spherical light flickered occasionally above.

‘Please ensure transmission door is closed,’ a metallic voice shook the surroundings.

Clara waited for the automatic door to close for a few seconds, before reverting to sliding it shut with her hands. “Come on, come on, come on!” she struggled with the weight, inching the door to the right. A loud clunk eventually resonated as it snapped into position as she aimed her eyes up to the ceiling. Clara exhaled loudly with relief.

‘Please scan your tag.’

Clara held her right hand under a pulsing red laser to her left after she managed to half hop to stand in front of the device.

‘Thank you. Please state your destination.’

“Umm…” Clara paused, outing her right index knuckle to her chin, “the big square.”

‘Location not known,’ the voice replied curtly, ‘please state your destination.’

“You know,” Clara half laughed, incredulous, “the big square,” she indicated with her hands, “largest indoor space ever constructed, named after that architect… you know, that, oh what’s his name-”

‘Location not known, please state your destination.’

“The… um… Ch- Ch- Charles! Yes! That was it!” Clara pointed to the ceiling, “the Charles Plateau,” she said with a question intonation.

‘Location not known, please state your destination.’

“The plateau!” Clara said loudly at the ceiling.

‘Location not known, please state your destination.’

“The big Charles square plateau thing in the middle of the centre,” Clara shouted, frustrated, “the place,” she paused, “where I can get the hell out of this place!”

‘Location not known, please state your destination.’

“Look,” Clara held the bridge of her nose, trying to control her temper, “I can’t believe I’m having a heated conversation with a recorded message inside a small room,” she muttered, “I have had enough today, and I am really not in the mood… can’t you just send me to the same place as you sent the person before to? For god’s sake!” Clara banged the wall hard with her right palm, unable to see how she could face another situation that seemed completely desperate.

‘Please enter emergency transmission area,’ the mechanical voice sounded.

“The square,” Clara sighed, thumping the wall again, “all I want to do is go to the square.”

‘Please enter emergency transmission area.’

“That’s it. Hang on…” Clara said, realising the message was different. “Yes! I don’t know whether it is possible to love a room, but right now, I do!” Clara exclaimed, her eyes and mouth grinning with relief. She patted the wall gently before standing upright, knowing the only obstacle ahead now was to get inside the plateau in time for the evacuation. She checked her phone for the time and replaced it back into her pocket. 10.46pm. “One hour,” she said to herself, nodding, “I can do this, no problem.”

Clara sprinted into the transmission corridor, ignoring the burning pain in her left ankle as she was dispersed into atoms and away from the nuclear reactor.


	68. Chapter 68

Ashildr woke up collapsed on the floor, initially unsure of where she was. Her eyes blinked open to see a ceiling peppered with twinkling spotlights. She got slowly to her feet, adjusting the bulletproof vest she was wearing down her body to make it more comfortable, touching between her eyes to feel that the bullet hole had indeed repaired itself.

Victor was lying in a crumpled heap in front, a trail of dark red blood dripping from his right nostril. His face was deathly pale and there was a large puddle of oozing liquid below his lolled head. Victor’s hands were firmly gripped around the black machine gun, obviously intent on not letting go.

Ashildr nodded to herself, not giving him a final glance as she strode towards the raised platform. She tapped nonchalantly on the keyboard in front, opting to not sit in the chair, but instead lean over the desk as a ream of scrolling information appeared on the screen.

“It’s 10.44…” Ashildr read the clock out loud, “you must have figured it out by now,” she muttered to herself, watching the large projected screen. She raised an eyebrow as the display indicated the other reactor had been deactivated. “Well, well, Clara and friends,” Ashildr mused wryly at the screen, folding her arms, “looks like you’re not quite as… incompetent… as I thought.”

An image of a dark industrial style room appeared to her left on a CCTV camera feed. Ashildr moved down from the platform, watching as a figure dived into the centre of the floor. She watched as the face became clear in the green low light haze. It was Clara. Ashildr observed as Clara struggled to open the transmission room door, eventually disappearing inside by contorting her body through a small gap. The hatch closed to the left a few seconds after.

Ashildr turned to her right, sighing slightly with relief at seeing Clara alive, heading in the direction of the main entrance to the control room. She approached the white door and the first layer opened horizontally, the second vertically to reveal a small corridor which twisted almost immediately to the right. She retraced her earlier steps following the narrow white passageway, jogging intermittently as the gradient of the grey concrete floor rose steadily until it plateaued as a vaulted door appeared in Ashildr’s vision.

Above the door frame was a large countdown timer showing decreasing white numbers on a black background, indicating the next opportunity to open the door due to the time lock seal.

“Two minutes,” Ashildr laughed to herself, pulling up her right black sleeve, exhaling in relief. “Two minutes to spare.”

 

……

 

Clara ran out of the transmission area, falling to the ground as her ankle gave way on an object that slid on the smooth marble. She lay crouched on the ground for several minutes after impact, groaning in pain, resting her head on her arms, before rolling onto her left side. Clara reached down to rub her ankle through her black leather boots, disentangling the pink silk scarf wrapped around her left shoe that had caused her to lose her balance.

Clara did a strained press up to lift her body, using the white marble barrier to her left to support herself upright. She hopped on her right leg, finding it too painful to put and weight on her left immediately.

The entrance to the transmission area was strewn with debris, discarded items of clothing, pools of blood and damaged marble barriers. One light was working in the aisle, it flickered intermittently. The area was completely deserted, a hollow silence permeated the air.

Clara supported herself to the end of the walkway, gingerly trying her ankle, wincing as a sharp pain shot through her leg. She staggered slowly towards the water machine, throwing herself against the wall to the left of it once she was a reasonable distance away. She placed her right hand into the gap in the machine, finding a gelatinous pouch of water presented into her hand moments later.

Sliding to the ground with her back against the wall drained with fatigue, Clara swallowed the water capsule whole, immediately feeling better for it. She folded her arms on top of her knees, resting her head as the remnants of the pouch dissolved lightly on her tongue.

“It’s OK,” Clara said, reassuring herself, “you’re here… this is it, all you have to do is walk out into the square and meet the others, and then this is over.” She remained stationery for several minutes, raising the energy to take herself out of the transmission area once she had regained a little stamina.

She limped slowly around the partition, the pain subsiding, out into the square, knowing she had made it to the end alive.

Clara looked around her new surroundings as the low ceiling gave way above her to a twinkling night sky and white tree like ceiling supports disappearing into the distance. The floor was scattered with clothing, smears of blood, belongings and shattered glass from nearby shop windows. It was completely deserted and quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Her shadow reached at least twelve feet in front as the light from the transmission area beamed out. It was indistinguishable from every other part of the shopping centre.

A white medical box had been upended outside the transmission entrance, it had been smashed open and the contents strewn around its perimeter. A metal baseball bat laid three floor tiles to the right, clearly the source of the damage. Clara noticed several water pouches, white capsules and green mouth cleansers spilling out from inside the machine. She carefully approached the box, crouching to insert her right hand through a hole surrounded by jagged clear glass shards, retrieving a water pouch, one white capsule and one green. She drank the water and ate the painkiller as she stood up, searching the square for signs of life.

Clara had been expecting to see people. She was sure that Trudi and Leon had told her the square was being used to evacuate almost eight hundred million people. Instead she had been met with an expanse of nothing and wondered where everyone else was.

She moved towards the perimeter markings on the floor, putting the green tablet into her mouth, chewing as she hobbled slightly to a set of numbers carved into the marble. She stepped over the mark to read it the correct way up.

“B424?” Clara read out loud after she swallowed the mouth cleanser, the minty taste refreshing her palate. She creased her eyebrows, confused, saying slowly, “what the hell am I doing here?”

 

…….

 

 

Ashildr stood six feet from the time locked door, arms folded, watching the countdown approach zero. A loud buzz preceded a large green illuminated button appearing on the white metal surface of the door.

‘PUSH TO OPEN’ the door announced in white capital letters, a large green arrow above strobed softly.

Ashildr depressed the button and the vault door disappeared with a whoosh towards the ceiling, returning her to the small white room she had sat waiting in with Victor for over an hour earlier. On the floor to the left were several discarded chocolate bar wrappers and a tattered newspaper.

Directly in front of her was the vehicle they had used to get into the heart of the reactor, a four-seated black electric car, which Victor had manoeuvred with expert precision down the small corridor.

Ashildr moved around to sit in the driving seat, pressing the green button between herself and the chair to her left. Nothing happened. She engaged the button again, the vehicle remained silent.

“Please turn on,” said Ashildr loudly, banging her left hand on the dashboard, “please.”

She placed her left index finger firmly on the switch, jabbing it hard and keeping it on there until the engine spluttered to life, choking as it began to turn over and roar in a deafening echo around the corridor.

“Yes,” said Ashildr brightly, holding her right foot onto the accelerator pedal, almost hitting the wall in front with the unexpected momentum. She corrected her error, engaging to reverse pedal and completing a jolting three-point turn to aim the vehicle at the exit on the left.

Once she was pointing in the correct direction Ashildr smirked to herself triumphantly, engaging the accelerator fully to zoom along the small corridor. She threw the steering wheel to the right sharply at the ninety-degree junction, skidding sideways to the left and taking a sizeable chunk of marble out of the flawless white wall. The vehicle scratched along the surface for several feet before Ashildr corrected the trajectory, glancing back momentarily to survey the damage before setting off at top speed smiling to herself.


	69. Chapter 69

Clara rubbed her eyes and checked again, realising she had not made a mistake. "No, no, no," she said to herself, unzipping her pockets in search of a map, "I'm meant to be in the square…" she trailed off, determining she definitely did not have the square guide.

Clara spun around on the spot, trying to figure out what to do. She examined the surroundings, checking for any free-standing maps, jogging with a slight limp along the now deserted shadowy boulevard. The shops around her contained bicycles, scooters and helmets, providing nothing of use to enlighten where she had been transported to. She checked her phone for the time. 22:59.

A loud crunching sound permeated the air. Clara spun around to see a large grey shutter closing down on the transmission area, leaving it unable to be entered. She jogged painfully in its direction, reaching the front just as the shutter impacted against the marble floor.

Clara pounded on the solid covering, only resulting in making her right hand ache. She groaned loudly, leaning back on the shutter, narrowing her eyes as she pushed herself up and in search of something useful. She spied an information point three shops to her right, immediately heading in its direction, walking through the cracked glass entrance door that opened as she approached.

Inside the information area the air was completely still, the myriad of desks which had been manned by hundreds of holograms now lay empty. Disturbed papers were scattered around, various articles of clothing including shoes and hats peppered the surroundings. The glass door closed behind, losing its integrity as the panels met, resulting in it shattering completely onto the floor.

Clara instinctively held her head even though she had moved several paces inside the room, watching as the last few cubes settled on the marble tiles. A faint pattering noise came from the outside, causing Clara to freeze, curious about the source of the sound. The volume increased steadily until a solitary figure sprinted past the window from the left, their gangly limbs trying to avoid any obstacles by jumping in large strides. She identified the figure as a man, wearing black trousers and a flowing light blue jacket as he ran past the opening.

"Hey!" shouted Clara, instantly jogging back to the door, peering around the frame. "Hey! Come back!" She stepped past the threshold. "Where are you going?" she called, surrounding her mouth with her hands to carry her voice further.

The man, now over twenty metres away, looked at her for a brief moment as he ran. "What are you doing just standing there?! Get yourself out! They've switched everything off!" he bellowed back in a deep voice, continuing to disappear into the distance.

"Why? Where is everyone?" Clara said loudly, jogging a few steps in his direction. "Please! come back!"

The man did not reply, sprinting quickly away and out of view, too far for her to catch up.

"What is going on?" Clara said to herself, immediately hurrying back into the information point, determined to find out where she was.

Clara approached the line of raised white marble, watching the time on the rear wall tick over to 23:05. She sat up backwards onto one of the desks, swinging her legs over the surface so she was able to reach the side Tim had stood when they had visited earlier. She hopped down onto a raised circular panel, searching for anything remotely useful. She unconsciously flipped several switches located on the underside of the desk surface, finding them defunct.

A pile of red maps caught her eye a foot from the floor, locked inside a clear plastic space which had a rear opening that she had to crouch down and contort her right arm to reach. Clara moved her fingertips searching for the edge of a map, feeling it graze the pad of her middle finger. She adjusted her positioning under the desk, forcing her arm in past her elbow, closing her eyes to concentrate as she caught one of the compact mirror sized objects between her thumb and index finger. She steadily pulled her arm out, just about managing to hold on to the map as she fished it from the container.

Clara extracted herself from the underside of the desk, standing quickly and unfolding the map onto the flat surface. It sprung to life, showing a holographic image of the centre.

"Where am I?" Clara said at the red object.

A large white dot appeared at 'B424', pulsing steadily. Clara pinched the map in the same way she had seen Francis do earlier in the day, zooming out the display. It quickly dawned on her as the image decreased in size that she was a large distance away from the central square, at least of third of the way down one edge.

"How do I get to the plateau?" Clara said beginning to panic slightly. She watched as a thin white line silently moved towards the middle of the shopping centre, directing her to the nearest corner of the large square area. Clara swallowed heavily before asking her next question. "How far is that?" her voice quivered.

The screen tilted in its angle before displaying a number in white writing between the two dots.

"One hundred and twenty-eight miles?" Clara shouted loudly, putting her elbows on the desk and holding her head despairingly in her hands.

…

Ashildr reached the entrance to the nuclear reactor and screeched to a halt six feet from the three spinning silver wheels. She pressed the red button to silence the engine and hopped out of the seat with a soft thud. She approached the central silver wheel, waiting for something to happen.

A circular green projection appeared on the white surface of the door, growing larger with every pace Ashildr took forward. It displayed white writing that said, 'FULL EVACUATION - EMERGENCY EXIT' and was a foot wide as Ashildr got within touching distance.

Ashildr placed her hand on the button, stepping back as a mechanical clunking raised a small portion of the portal towards her up to the ceiling, reminding her of a drawbridge receding. She watched the door above her as she ducked underneath once the gap was high enough.

Sierra Five was asleep soundly to her left, having fallen ungainly onto the floor, he was curled up around his machine gun in the foetal position.

Ashildr allowed herself a wry smile, having given him the laced water pouch earlier in the day. She made her way to the white transmission area and waited for the automatic door to allow her in. Ashildr banged her left fist on the door, willing it to open until a male voice permeated the air.

'Transmission suspended due to full evacuation,' he announced, 'please use the emergency exit.'

A hatch opened silently to Ashildr's right, its edges glowing green.

Ashildr carefully approached the five foot high, four foot wide opening, stepping her right foot over the threshold. A spidery white metal ladder was attached to the far wall of the small cylindrical annex. She put her right hand on the closest rung and looked up to see it disappearing up into the distance, narrowing her eyes in displeasure.

"Well, that's just great," she said sarcastically, imitating Clara, exhaling heavily as she began climbing quickly up the ladder which seemed to stretch above into eternity.

…..

Clara immediately sat up, knowing that she had to get moving if she was to have any chance of reaching the plateau. She groaned to herself, unsure if she was mentally able to cope with another setback, especially so close to the deadline to get to the plateau.

"Which direction do I need to go in?" she asked the map out loud, making her way back over the desk, watching as a white arrow pointing to the right appeared on the projection. "Thanks," she said almost sarcastically, folding up the map and sliding it into her right pocket.

Clara jogged back out into the boulevard, spinning around as she searched for anything useful. The transmission area was unable to be accessed, not sealed by the shutter. She ran to the centre of the boulevard, grateful the painkillers had kicked in, allowing her to run without feeling her injury. She approached, hoping the travelators were in use as there was a nearby interchange.

A pod whooshed past in the central chamber, leaving the surroundings rattling in its wake.

Clara walked to the end of the travellator, placing her right foot onto conveyor belt, expecting to be heaved forwards quickly but instead was unreassuringly stationary. Clara held the bridge of her nose, beginning to panic, she retreated and decided that running in the direction the map had pointed was now clearly the best option.

She pulled out her phone and checked the time, noticing that every advertising board had been switched off, leaving just a grey expanse of space. 23.09.

Clara swore under her breath before running in the direction of the square, knowing fully well she would be unable to cover the one hundred and twenty eight mile distance in forty one minutes. She used the calculator on her phone as she jogged, working out that she would need to travel at a speed of at least 187mph to cover the distance in time.

She ran past a bicycle shop to her right, the scattered remnants of its façade strewn across the interior entranceway, slipping on a newspaper as she took her eyes from the boulevard floor.

A few minutes later Clara paused for breath, already exhausted by the effort she had used. She leant up against the doorway of a shop to her right to regain her strength, kicking a twisted heavy piece of metal along the marble floor, hearing it clang away. "I can't do this," she said loudly to herself, "it's too far." She put her forehead onto the clear glass fronting, banging it several times, eventually looking up when something unexpected caught her eye inside the store.

Clara gasped in shock, casually stepping inside, eyes glinting as she realised there was a solution on the other side of the glass.

…..

Ashildr began to tire once she was ten floors up, indicated by a red spray painted marker on the curved white wall to her left. The walls had begun to close in around the surface of the ladder, a mere foot in each direction, leaving Ashildr feeling very claustrophobic.

Her legs and upper arms began to ache as she reached the fourteenth floor, taking a cautious glance up. A white light flooded down the tube in the distance, the only thing of note she had seen since starting her ascent. She forced herself to speed up, knowing she had a limited amount of time before the plateau was closed to ensure she left the shopping centre safely.

…

Clara found herself confronted with a wide range of motorised bicycles as she entered the shop, ignoring them to walk directly to the large charcoal grey motorbike, the item that had grabbed her attention. Her eyes widened as she approached, placing her palms on the dome of thin clear glass engulfing the vehicle, realising after completing a perimeter lap that the only way in was to break the surround.

She immediately began searching for something strong enough to break the glazing, searching behind the nearby counter tops to no avail. She jogged to the outside of the store, tripping over the large piece of twisted metal she had kicked away moments before.

Clara crouched to pick up what she now realised was a destroyed piece of a bike frame and returned to the glass dome.

"I really hope this works," she said out loud to herself as she wielded the bike pole, striking it down on to the glass, barely scratching the surface. "Come on!" she shouted desperately, landing another blow in roughly the same place, leaving a definite mark on the outside. She hit the dome as hard as she could in the area watching a small crack appear in front of her. "Thank you," she whispered to the ceiling, landing five or six stabs until the entire dome collapsed in the manner of a car window smashing into tiny pieces.

Clara smiled to herself, kicking out some of the lower glazing with her foot as she quickly found her way to the vehicle. She brushed a few residual nuggets of glass from the black padded leather seat with her right jacket sleeve, allowing the fingertips of her left hand to trace along the matt surface of the grey carbon fibre petrol tank.

"Nice," she said quietly to herself, smiling with wide eyes as she moved to hold the handle bars, finding she was able to move its centre of gravity off the holding stand with a small tug forward. It was lighter than she had been expecting but still required a large amount of force to shift.

The dispersed glass crunched under the front tyre of the motorbike as Clara heaved it out of the destroyed dome. She inspected the bodywork to find it strikingly similar to the one she had acquired from the Doctor several years previously.

Clara dragged the bike out of the entrance to the shadowy deserted shop into the central boulevard, stopping only to sweep up a black helmet on the crook of her left arm, turning gently to the right to point the vehicle in the correct direction. She swung her right leg up onto the seat, resting her hands on the smooth brushed metal handgrips.

"Oh yeah," she smiled, a little distracted by the machine, before remembering she was against the clock. She looked for an ignition, locating a small horizontal switch which was green on the left side and red to the right. She pushed the switch to the left, watching as the grey bodywork became covered in a capillary-like network of pulsing iridescent blue lights. Clara looked down at the petrol tank as she put the helmet squarely on her head, seeing the machine as something that had been brought to life rather than being switched on.

Clara rotated the accelerator handle on the right, immediately taken by surprise as the vehicle purred into action with a soft growl beneath her.

"OK," Clara nodded, declaring proudly to herself, "looks like we are in business!"

Clara moved her fingers up to the bottom of her chin, a habit she had developed to check her helmet was on properly as she rested the weight of the vehicle by planting her left foot on the floor. She kept her hands on her neck for a moment, clicking the clasp shut, slowly tightening the strap as she breathed out. She checked her phone by retrieving it from the left pocket, nervously looking back towards the store. 23.18.

"Twenty seven minutes," Clara replaced the handset and zipped up the pocket.

Clara turned the accelerator handle, letting the rear wheel spin furiously for a few seconds, leaving a black smear on the floor, watching the speedometer click up to over 200mph until she slowly released the brake. She had one hundred and twenty miles to cover in twenty-seven minutes, even at this speed it would be difficult to reach the plateau before the barriers sealed.

The bike immediately catapulted forward, the rear wheel sliding a little on the greasy floor that was covered in the remnants of the antidote. Clara fought hard to avoid strewn packages in her way, noting there was a distinct lack of people and bodies to avoid. The surroundings became blurred as she zoomed along the boulevard, fighting to travel the distance in time.


	70. Chapter 70

Ashildr reached the source of the light, an open hatch that appeared behind her on the twenty-fifth floor as she approached, bathing the cylindrical tube in long shadows. She stepped backwards from the ladder onto a small white marble platform, barely large enough for her to walk through without having to stoop or twist her body. She caught her breath by leaning forward against the right hand side.

The end of the tunnel was barely visible over one hundred metres in the distance, forcing Ashildr to break out into a mild fatigued jog as she remembered she was against the clock.

As she approached a solid white wall the tunnel began to fan out to normal proportions, making her feel immediately less claustrophobic and relieved that she might be reaching somewhere useful. A green scrolling marker on the floor turned her to the left towards a dark area containing an open glass pod.

"Yes!" Ashildr exclaimed, slowing down as she approached. She held the side of the glass as she quickly ducked, almost throwing herself towards the rear left seat, breathing heavily as she tried to move her limbs to sit correctly, resting her elbows on her knees.

'Please scan your tag,' the pod said out loud.

She reached into the pocket on her arm, struggling with the zip for a few seconds as her pulse raced, retrieving the patch with her tag and holding it under the unfurled black scanner. She watched her hand shake as the adrenaline coursed through her body.

The pod remained silent as the white metal belt clunked around Ashildr's waist, making her sit up in shock, anchoring her to the seat. The glass hatch lowered to her right with the smallest hiss, sealing effortlessly with the travelling red laser beam.

'Preparing for transportation to the evacuation centre,' the metallic voice bellowed from above.

"Thank god," Ashildr sighed to herself, putting her head back onto the surface of the glass, her breath expanding her chest cavity. She moved a few errant strands of hair from the left side of her face, wiping a small amount of sweat from her forehead.

The pod dropped a few inches down and begun to slowly descend into a completely dark area until it came to a shuddering stop.

Ashildr swallowed, affixing her hands to hold the opposite edges of her black bulletproof vest, psychosomatic nausea already beginning to set in. She closed her eyes tightly and grimaced as the pod began moving slowly to her left, accelerating quickly enough to make her gasp and then grit her teeth as she let out a long loud wail of pain.

After what felt like an hour, Ashildr risked opening her eyes as the pod fell stationary. She swallowed a small wave of sickness possessing her body. The surroundings were in darkness apart from the vague light coming from the screen between her and the seat opposite.

The pod shunted forward, moving smoothly in a different direction, approaching a white light in the far distance.

Ashildr let out a sigh of relief, resting the left side of her head against the glass, exhaling and nodding to herself, tired on the verge of wanting to fall asleep. She closed her eyes and sighed to herself, imagining getting back to her room in the TARDIS and collapsing into the comfortable bed.

A loud tap on the outside of the glass woke her from the daydream. Ashildr slowly opened her eyes, immediately jumping up with a start, screaming as a snarling purple face was pressed against directly the other side of the glass, eyes widened in her direction, thumping on the external shell of the pod. The white belt prevented her lower body from moving, leaving her unable to distance herself from the figure.

The pod shuddered to a halt as it reached the source of the light in front.

Ashildr looked nervously around as the infected person shifted to the back of the pod and around to the right, eyes trained on her, banging on the outside of the glass so hard the entire unit shifted.

The red laser beam began to etch around the side nearest to her, revealing the square section that opened upwards with a hiss, leaving her bolted into the seat. The purple figure, a man wearing a black swooshing overcoat, shifted ominously out of view into the shadows to her right, a loud snarl echoing all around.

Ashildr begged the lap belt to be removed, tugging at it with her hands, waiting for the loud clunking.

The infected figure appeared suddenly on her left, placing both its hands around her neck and squeezing tight.

Ashildr gasped for breath, trying to claw her fingernails into the hands crushing her windpipe, feeling the blood become constricted to the rest of her body.

The white metal belt clunked, instantly releasing her lower limbs. She was quickly thrown to her left, landing solidly halfway up a grey marble wall, sliding down to the ground in a heap, clutching at her neck, coughing heavily.

The figure immediately darted in her direction, eyes glaring, mouth snarling as Ashildr managed to recover her senses enough to move the majority of her body out of the way as he attempted to land a hard stamping motion down at her chest. The blow caught the side of Ashildr's left upper arm, his patent black left shoe sliding down onto the grey floor, sending him off balance for a moment.

Ashildr used the distraction to get to her knees and shuffle a few metres down the small light grey corridor, noticing the green strobing light on directing her to an automatic door at the end. She scrambled to her feet, deciding to make a run for the exit when she was hauled roughly backwards by the neck of her bulletproof vest and thrown along the floor, skidding twenty feet.

The figure emitted a rasping growl, spinning around, holding its right hand towards Ashildr's neck, grabbing hold and lifting her up off the ground, grinning maniacally at her.

Ashildr kicked her legs furiously in the air, digging her fingers into the skin of the man's hands as she was held three feet from the floor. She felt her windpipe collapsing, crushed under the vice like grip of the strong purple hand. She clawed at the man's hand, trying to contort her body to get her feet onto something.

The man walked forwards, pressing her roughly into the wall behind, the empty pod on her left.

Ashildr resisted the temptation to fight the pressure on her neck, now using her energy to brace herself against the wall, lift up her knees and force both of her black military boots solidly into the figure's abdomen, causing him to double over and drop her.

Ashildr managed to land upright, spluttering as she initially found it difficult to breathe. She recovered slightly to hold the shoulders of the man's jacket with her hands and raised her right knee roughly into his chin, hearing a bone in his neck snap.

He fell to his knees, head hanging to the right, allowing Ashildr enough time to turn sideways and strike his upper chest with a strong impeccably placed sideways kick from her right foot. The man was forced backwards, purple limbs flailing like a turtle on its back.

Ashildr felt her windpipe recover completely, inhaling a large breath to test her airway before running over the man towards the exit door. She sensed him moving as she reached the exit, pounding on the cool metal surface, begging for it to open.

The man's upper torso was covered in his flowing black overcoat as he climbed forward onto his knees.

"Open up!" said Ashildr impatiently, turning around to put her back on the door, instinctively looking to the ceiling.

The infected purple face became visible through the sea of black fabric covering the grey marble floor, eyes drilled in Ashildr's direction, vocalising a guttural roar that made her wince and half cover her ears.

A small whirring was accompanied by the door sliding to her right, tugging against the fabric of her bulletproof vest.

The man got unsteadily to his feet and immediately held out his right hand, grasping in Ashildr's direction as he made his way down the twenty metre long corridor, breaking into a fast jog, shambling forwards.

Ashildr took one step backwards, facing the door as it closed, realising she had outrun the infected figure in the black overcoat as he was too far down the corridor to catch up as it sealed. She smiled wryly to herself, forgetting how much she enjoyed combat situations, waving sarcastically at the surface of the door. A loud thud came from the other side.

She turned around, instantly regretting her decision when she was greeted with a wide white alcove full of infected purple faces, the closest, a woman in a bright red overcoat, six feet from her face. The woman held out her right hand towards Ashildr's neck, twitching her fingers, an action that was then imitated by the ten to fifteen others that were nearest her.

"OK then," she nodded blankly to herself, making each of her hands into a fist and holding them in front of her, "let's do this."


	71. Chapter 71

Clara continued driving at breakneck speed along the boulevard, noticing a large amount of debris scattered on the floor in front. She shook her head to decide if she was imagining the scene as she approached, realising she was not, slowing down as there was no clear way through.

An excessive amount of clothing was covering her path, spilling out from a transmission area on the right, clearly the scene of chaos, panic and struggle. The trail continued towards the subway under the pod tubes on the left.

Clara shifted across slowly, coming to a smooth halt, paranoid about something getting caught in the wheel. She hopped off the bike, confused that she had still not seen anybody apart from one man running since reaching the boulevard. Clara switched off the engine and slowly pushed the bike forward, having identified this as the shortest area she would have to clear, approximately twenty metres. She walked the motorbike over what she now saw was wet and greasy detritus, thankful she had taken the time to stop.

She moved alongside the steps to the underpass, instantly becoming aware of a heavy wet growling sound to her left, turning her head to see a bright purple face grimacing at her.

The figure stood still once it shambled to the top of the stairs, eyes locked onto hers, snarling loudly. It was wearing a pink overcoat, had long blonde hair and had a thin line of saliva dripping from the left corner of her drooping mouth.

Clara watched as the woman extended her left hand out in front, aimed squarely at her neck, gulping back the lump in her throat, the angry purple eyes narrowing into unreadable black pinpoints.

 

…..

 

Ashildr pulled up the left sleeve of her black jumper past her elbow as she wielded her fists, ready for action.

The woman in the red overcoat darted forward, grasping the fingertips of her right hand at Ashildr’s skin, a possessed look covering her face.

Ashildr ducked out of the way to her right, allowing the woman to collapse into the surface of the door. She grasped the rear of the red overcoat with her right fist, pulling the creature backwards towards her and hauling her roughly into the path of the nearest five infected bodies, sending them off balance and crashing to the floor in a pool of muffled groans.

She spotted a route through several layers of the crowd, sprinting forwards towards what appeared to be the boulevard, her right shoe impacting onto the skin of a man’s bare shoulder as she missed her footing, her small frame collapsing suddenly into the solid green marble tiles.

A thin gangly man wearing a white vest threw himself onto Ashildr’s back, pressing her chest into the floor, winding her momentarily. A bright blue wellington boot stepped down onto her right hand as the nearby bodies regained their balance.

Ashildr yelped in pain as she felt a vertebra dislodge in her lower back under the weight of several more bodies, trying to claw herself away by scratching her fingernails on the floor tiles, unable to get any purchase. Her legs were dragged backwards with such force she thought her lower body might break off, but it did mercifully free her from the suffocating weight above. She was picked up by her right ankle and dangled two feet from the ground by a woman wearing a ripped figure hugging dirty white dress.

“Let me go!” shouted Ashildr loudly, pounding her fists against the woman’s thighs, trying to kick her left leg violently in a futile effort to break free.

 

….

 

 

Clara froze on the spot, trying to read the creature’s expression. They stood looking at each other for thirty seconds without blinking until Clara risked a slow movement of her head to the right, deciding that she should maybe try to make a run for it. She inched the bike forward, feeling the suspension tested on the uneven surface.

The blonde woman snarled, a globule of spit dropping down to the floor as she growled loudly through gritted teeth, taking a silent step in Clara’s direction.

Clara held her breath, edging forward, taking her eyes off the infected woman for a second to check how much further she had to cover before she could get back on the bike, noticing she was almost clear. Clara flicked her eyes back to see her two paces closer and couldn’t help but let out a loud gasp.

A loud growl accompanied a sudden jerking movement forward, forcing Clara to turn around and run as fast as she could, jumping onto the bike and pressing the ignition.

“Come on!” Clara cursed herself as she missed the green button on her first attempt, locating it on the second try. The vehicle lit up and spluttered to life as Clara turned the accelerator handle before it started.

The woman threw herself at the back of the bike as it set off, her pink coat flapping behind, grabbing a fist full of Clara’s black leather jacket in each hand, causing the front wheel to lift off of the ground unexpectedly.

Clara threw all of her weight forward, determined to not fall, feeling herself beginning to lose control of the rapidly accelerating vehicle as one purple arm clamped around her waist tightly. Clara held both her hands on the handlebars, trying to shift forward in the seat and stand up to throw her off, grounding the vehicle back onto two wheels. She turned unexpectedly to the right to avoid an upturned white medical box.

The woman relaxed her grip on Clara’s waist, sliding along the floor to her left at over one hundred miles per hour, hitting the medical box with her flailing feet as she continued to cling on to the left side of Clara’s jacket with both her hands.

“Let go!” Clara shouted as she weaved the bike, trying to keep her eyes on the boulevard and not that of the growling purple face to her left. She increased the speed, weaving the bike expertly through various obstacles in the hope of losing her unwanted passenger.

The woman got her right arm, clothed in the torn pink jacket, around the seat of the bike behind Clara, hauling her bodyweight backwards, she went to catch the flapping right side of Clara’s jacket but missed, leaving her trailing on the floor behind the rear wheel.

“Will you let go?!” Clara screamed, the weight shifting again. She riskily took her hand off the left handlebar and dug her fingernails into the woman’s hand attached to her clothing. “Seriously!”

The blonde woman, her hair now messy in the wind, managed to cling on for a few seconds before hitting a large structural support full on as Clara drove past, her hand losing its purchase until it only held onto the zip. Clara put both hands on the handlebars and weaved the bike a little more.

“Thank you,” Clara said out loud as she eventually managed to shake the woman’s grasp free from the bottom of her leather jacket, seeing the crumpled body reflected in the small wing mirrors. She straightened herself in the seat, accelerated to top speed and screeched off with a squeal of tyre smoke into the distance.

 

…….

 

Ashildr felt the blood in her body travelling towards her head, causing her eyes to roll back.

“Please…” Ashildr began, becoming less alert, “let me go…” She kicked her foot one final time, luckily impacting directly into the forearm holding her ankle with a small snap.

The woman in the torn white dress let out a grumble of pain, dropping Ashildr face down, breaking her nose on contact with the green marble.

Ashildr’s body collapsed on top of her, immediately aware that she needed to get to her feet to avoid being crushed or throttled. She scrambled away from the group of five or six infected around her, getting to her feet, wiping away an uncomfortable trickle of blood from below her nose with her right forearm, the red liquid smearing over her skin.

“Thank you all,” Ashildr said to the group with a wry smile, “but I really do need to be somewhere, so let’s get this done, shall we?” Her nose reset itself, she straightened her neck and then aimed a kick at the right shin of a balding man wearing a black dinner jacket to her left, pushing him roughly to the ground. She sensed something behind her, throwing back her left elbow to impact solidly into a set of ribs. She ran over the balding man’s body, ducking a grasping hand to her right, twisting to aim a full-strength punch into the stomach of a tall woman wearing a bright yellow dress.

Ashildr sprinted directly to her left, seeing an opening along the edge of the boulevard outside a row of shop windows. She looked backwards quickly to see three or four infected in pursuit, accidentally tripping over a small brown briefcase discarded on the floor, doing a diving forward roll to get smoothly straight back up to her feet to continue running. She smiled and straightened her vest, a little annoyed Clara had not been there to see it when she felt a pressure behind her back.

“Argh!” Ashildr shouted as she unexpectedly found herself flying backwards through the air, over fifty feet high, still kicking her legs from running. She began to fall, subject to the artificial gravity as her momentum slowed, her eyes widened in the direction of the floor where she impacted so hard her neck snapped.

Ashildr groaned to herself as she regained consciousness, sitting up she looked down to see her leg pointing at an unnatural angle and her right shoulder dislocated. She straightened her left lower leg to help it heal, snapping her arm back into position as she sat up. She backwards to see a growing crowd of infected purple bodies running rapidly in her direction.

She got unsteadily to her feet, brushing off dust from the thighs of her black combat trousers and right forearm, pausing to take in a deep breath and snap her neck loudly before running towards the nearest travellator to put distance between her and the baying mob.

A loud collective groan echoed through the cavernous space of the boulevard, a scratching growl that made her desperate to leave the area. She noticed a scrolling green arrow on the floor pointing in front, hoping this was leading her to the exit.

She jogged twenty metres to her left and stepped onto the conveyor belt with her right foot, immediately catapulted forward so fast she collapsed onto all fours as she emerged at the other end seconds later.

“Oww,” Ashildr groaned out loud as she rolled onto her back, looking up through the invisible ceiling to the starry black abyss. She stared absently as a bout of dizziness subsided in her head.

Two large figures ran across her vision, obscuring the surroundings, growling loudly. They reappeared several seconds later, peering down at Ashildr from above, two purple snarling faces illuminated against the expanse of black visible through the white trees.

Ashildr just about managed to barrel roll out of reach of their grasping hands, unsteadily getting to her feet and sprinting towards the next travellator, hoping to put some distance between herself and the pursuers.

She was thrown out roughly from the travellator onto the boulevard, this time managing to just stay upright, using the momentum to continue to the next conveyer. Her extremities were becoming numb with tiredness. She risked a small look back to find she was no longer being followed, allowing her to slow the pace.

Ashildr continued moving between travelators, the momentum beginning to make her feel intermittently nauseous as she was accelerated forward. She left each time a little more disorientated, staggering the fifty metres between the conveyor belts, begging the plateau to come into view so she could get back to the TARDIS.


	72. Chapter 72

At over two hundred miles per hour Clara slowed to a screeching sideways stop, planting her right boot on the floor as she saw the sign directing her to the plateau, noticing the lights were now on and blaring down brightly. The bike purred quietly beneath her.

“Emergency evacuation procedure in progress,” a male voice boomed from the ether above. Clara aimed her eyes upwards. “Please enter the plateau.”

There were several people running towards a large square gap in the boulevard one hundred metres away on the right, fifty metres wide and high. In the distance she could see another identical opening where a white panel was rising from the ground from the right, covering well over half the gaping space. She noticed a similar flap had already begun to lift in the entrance nearest to her, leaving a shallow ramp. A faint whistling permeated the air.

Clara calculated it was too far for her to get off and run, and was beginning to be too high to climb over so she decided to make an attempt with the bike, twisting the accelerator handle as forcefully as possible. The back wheel spun trying to gain traction for a few seconds, leaving a large black smudge on the green marble before the bike sped off.

Clara aimed herself at the centre of the rapidly rising barrier, noticing two men furiously sprinting up to her right, currently leaving a ramp at a forty-five degree angle for her to ride up. She increased her speed, getting the front wheel of the bike onto the ramp, marking the white marble with black tyre prints as she began riding up its surface. Clara tilted her head to avoid the top, skimming the surface of the interior ceiling with a hollow scrape.

The rear wheel of the motorbike pushed off the barrier, leaving Clara and the bike freefalling the fifty metres to the ground with the wheels both spinning furiously. Clara felt as if the next few seconds were in slow motion as she gradually floated to the floor like a feather in the breeze, holding her breath as she braced herself for a jolting impact.

 

….

 

Ashildr almost missed a sign for the plateau whilst running, her head dizzy and inner ear off set. She just about managed to prevent herself going further than necessary by forcing her weight backwards from her tiptoes a foot from the start of another travellator as she darted quickly away. She doubled over and caught her breath, feeling her heartbeat throbbing in her chest.

A large green line on the floor lead directly to a towering entranceway, a stream of people heading through. Some were running, others casually walking through the space. A strange silence permeated the air as the dishevelled crowd pushed forward. Ashildr leant against the top of a nearby bench, putting her head in her hands and smiling, happy that she had managed to make it to the plateau before the evacuation.

“Yes,” she nodded, pushing herself upright and strolled in the direction of the open walkway, acknowledging a young couple to her right with a glance.

A piercing screech suddenly filled the air, causing the entire surroundings to shudder as if an earthquake had been triggered. A family of five lost their balance in front, crashing to the floor halfway through the entrance. Ashildr held out her hands to the side to steady herself, looking quickly around to find the source of the noise, but unable to identify it.

The juddering in the floor subsided, giving way to panicked shouts and screams from those around Ashildr, all searching for what was causing the disturbance. The entire floor of the walkway began to lift up slowly, causing the family resting on it to stand up in shock and disappear further inside.

Several others around Ashildr shifted in the direction of the rising panel, running up what was now becoming a shallow ramp thirty metres away. It heaved up with an echoing whistling grating of metal grinding against stone.

“Come on!” Ashildr shouted out to no-one in particular as she sprinted with every ounce of energy she had to reach the barrier and get her black combat boots onto it. “It’s closing!” she shouted to a man debating what to do on her right.

She ran as fast as possible up the incline, managing to get within five metres of the end of the barrier when her right foot slipped due to the increasing angle, forcing her to plant the sole of her boot sideways to keep upright.

Ashildr quickly darted towards the end, making the most of the remaining traction before making a decision to throw herself at the edge, miraculously getting the fingertips of her left hand onto the corner of the marble. She moved her right hand to join her left, now lying flat against the surface, looking up to see the gap closing, knowing she had to get through.

She strained to haul herself up, swinging her right leg around to straddle the edge, holding her left hand out to a blonde teenager wearing a green t-shirt adjacent to help him up.

“Thank you,” the boy said, his face pale, taking large breaths. He peered down to the floor below, rolling off the side before Ashildr had a chance to reply, instantly dropping twenty metres down, landing on his side with a soft thud.

“You’re…” Ashildr instinctively held out her hand as she watched the boy crawl onto his front, getting to his feet and noticeably limping away out of view, “… welcome.”

The top edge of the barrier was rapidly approaching the ceiling, now less than five metres.

Ashildr carefully lowered herself down, placing her palms flat against the square inner edge of the marble, trying to get the courage to drop the now sizeable distance to the ground. Ashildr let go just as her fingertips were about to be crushed in the small gap, falling four floors to the ground with a loud snapping crack of bones as she shattered her right shoulder.

 

….

 

Clara’s bike landed on both wheels, immediately propelled forward with a speed she hadn’t been expecting, squealing on the tiles as she fought the momentum. Her head was forced backwards so hard it made her neck hurt.

“Wow,” Clara said, smiling to herself as she managed to keep the vehicle upright. A large group of seated onlookers quickly dived out of Clara’s way as she rode through a dense crowd at top speed. She pulled on the right brake handle hard, willing the many people to get out of her way as she careered towards a large white marble statue of a small figure.

Clara swerved to avoid an unwitting pedestrian, losing control of the vehicle, wobbling unsettlingly until the bike toppled over to the left and she ended up power sliding along the floor with a loud crunching scrape. The friction began to quickly shred the exposed part of her left lower leg, knee and thigh the further she went along the marble tiles. She braced herself for impact on the statue, grimacing, futilely depressing the brake lever.

The bike eventually ground to a halt, the front wheel less than an inch from the supporting plinth of the white statue. The fibreglass bodywork of the vehicle left long deep jagged scratches in the grey marble floor, rear wheel still spinning furiously as a large crowd descended towards the commotion.


	73. Chapter 73

Clara couldn’t move. Her hands were frozen to the handlebars and her right fingers glued to the accelerator handle meaning the back wheel was still turning at full pelt. She had stars in her eyes, a large pounding in her head and a damp sensation on her outer left thigh. The tremor of the engine began to feel like a heartbeat pressed against her chest. Clara moved her neck slightly, finding she could blink her eyes and move her fingers, hearing a loud clamour around her, muffled due to the helmet. She managed to move her right hand away from the accelerator, immediately feeling the engine subside.

“Are you ok?” she heard someone call faintly from above. “Check her pulse!” Clara felt a pressure under her chin.

“Quick!” said another voice from further away. “Turn off the bike!” A hand darted in front of her visor to press the red button beneath.

“She’s not breathing! She hasn’t got a pulse! I can’t feel a pulse! She’s dead! She’s dead isn’t she?” a woman began to panic nearby. “Oh no, she’s dead…” the voice faded away, sobbing.

“I’m OK,” Clara said weakly, her breath fogging up the inside of the helmet. “I’m… OK.”

“Boys!” a loud male voice shouted. “Over here!”

“Can you hear me, dear?” another woman asked, gently shaking her right shoulder. 

Clara was now coherent enough to realise that the bike was being pulled out from under her, leaving her collapsed on the floor. She tried to move her head slightly, resulting in the surface of the helmet grinding along the grey marble with an unreassuringly hollow scrape. She brought her right hand instinctively to the right side of her head to rub the severe headache away, momentarily confused as she felt the smooth outer of the helmet.

“She’s moving! She’s awake!” a man exclaimed loudly. There was a loud round of applause and some cheering.

“How is that possible? She didn’t have a pulse!” a voice nearby said.

Clara lifted the flap of the helmet visor up with her right hand to see a dark-haired man smiling back at her.

“Hello,” he said brightly in a non-descript accent, waving his hand in front of her face, “how are we doing in there? Can you move?”

“I think so,” Clara said weakly, stretching out the fingers of her right hand, doing the same with her other hand and then wiggling her toes inside her boots. She pushed herself up slowly on her left elbow, feeling intensely dizzy as her head felt twice as heavy as it should be, her neck weak and limp.

“Here, here,” the dark haired man said, putting his hands either side of Clara’s helmet after undoing the clip below her chin. She felt pressure around her shoulders as someone helped her to sit up. “I’m going to take this off… OK?”

Clara unconsciously nodded, instantly regretting the decision as it made her neck ache.

“Here we go,” he smiled, inching the black helmet off, the soft inner fabric painfully contorting her ears for a second before it was pulled away.

“Ow,” said Clara, reaching to massage the back of her neck, feeling as if her skull was now at least a stone lighter.

“Can you move your head?” the man asked. He was wearing a dark green jumper, red trousers and watched her with an uneven crooked smile.

“Yes,” Clara said, extending her neck to look up at the ceiling towards the black twinkling stars, turning left and then right to see at least twenty people gazing in her direction, their curious eyes surveying her body. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she explained, “I’ll live.” 

An older woman to Clara’s right tightened the grip around her shoulders, giving her a hug. “You’re young, you’ll be fine, dear.” She wore a grey cardigan and jeans.

“You had a very lucky escape,” the man held the left side of the helmet up towards her, it had deep silver scratches in the surface, the black paint worn away, “this could have been your head.” He surveyed her face, and creased his eyebrows, “did it get you inside? You’re hurt?” He pointed towards her left ear.

“Oh no,” Clara put her hand up to her cheek, “I got this earlier…”

“Really been in the wars, haven’t you?” he laughed, setting the helmet down.

“You could say that,” Clara agreed, not willing to go into further details. She tried to move her leg and grimaced. “I certainly feel like it. Ow…” she inhaled, looking down. “Thank you, umm…” she searched his face for a name.

“Brock,” the man said to her, putting his right hand on his chest, “and this is my mum Portia.” He pointed to the older woman.

“Thank you,” Clara smiled. She sat upright on her own, rubbing her forehead to ease a growing headache and wiping away a increasing tear of pain. “Both of you.”

Portia nodded, moving away once Clara could support herself. She took off her glasses from the bridge of her nose and put them into a small pocket on the left side of her chest. “I really thought we’d lost you, when I couldn’t feel a pulse. Let me check it again, dear-”

“Oh, it’s there,” Clara said to her, pulling away slightly, “it’s just very very faint.”

“You shouldn’t be off riding around on motorbikes and the like if you have a heart condition,” Portia observed.

“Give her a break, mum,” Brock said slightly under his breath, holding her back with his left arm. “She’s a nurse.”

A white medical box trundled quickly in their direction from the right, the crowd parting to allow it through. Several people had now lost interest and begun moving away from the area, leaving only a dozen concerned bystanders. Two men were inspecting her motorbike, one had stood it upright and was sitting in the seat pretending to rev the engine. 

The hologram of Tim appeared on the top edge as the small fridge sized box rested gracefully on the floor.

“Hello Clara,” Tim announced. “We have identified you as being unwell-”

“Oh really?” Clara replied sarcastically, wincing as she tried to rotate her ankle. “What makes you think that?”

“You have multiple injuries,” Tim smiled and held out his hands. “I can give details if you wish?”

“I am fully aware of the extent of my injuries,” Clara replied curtly, straightening her leg.

“Can you help her?” Brock asked the box, ignoring Clara’s protestations. “Surely there must be a cream or a tab for this?”

“She’s going to need plastics to fix that scar on her leg,” Portia observed out loud, pointing with her left hand.

“Shh, mum,” Brock chided. “Please help her,” he directed at Tim.

“Clara, we have assessed that water, an antiseptic, an anaesthetic wrap, painkiller and mouth freshener will be sufficient to relive your current symptoms. We would recommend you seek medical attention upon leaving the TCM. I am also able to provide a printed medical report on request.”

“I hope she knows a good surgeon,” Portia said sideways to Brock, pointing at Clara’s leg, “fixing that is not going to be cheap.”

“Yeah,” Brock sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“I’m OK,” Clara said to the medical box, “Tim, give me all of the things.”

The front of the box opened, revealing two pouches of water, a dark yellow roll of rectangular bandage and three tablets, coloured green, red and white. Brock handed them down to her.

“Please first drink the water to replace your fluids,” Tim directed, “then eat the tablets in this order. The red removes any antibodies from your blood supply, the white one is a painkiller and the green tablet will deliver a minty fresh taste.”

“You do like your medicines here, don’t you?” Clara said as she followed the instructions, wincing at the sour metallic taste of the red tablet after the water. She allowed the green tablet to melt on her tongue to remove the bitter feeling in her mouth.

“Please cover any of your injuries in the yellow fabric,” Tim smiled down at her.

‘Emergency evacuation in one minute,’ a loud voice boomed. ‘Please remain seated during take-off, your safety is paramount to us here at Tricadiamercato.’

Brock began to pass her the bandage, offering to help. The medical box closed magically. The few people remaining around them had now melted into the crowd, leaving Clara alone with Brock, Portia and the medical box.

“Take off?” Clara repeated.

“What’s happening?” Portia asked, looking around as there was a now mood of concerned panic in the air.

Clara nodded at Brock silently, watching as he wrapped her ankle upwards quickly in the yellow bandage. It turned white upon contact with her body and then began to gradually disappear to nothing.

“We are being evacuated,” Tim answered, smiling broadly, clearly not having been programmed for the gravitas of a situation such as this.

“I know that,” Portia replied curtly, “what does that mean for us?”

Brock hesitated as he moved past Clara’s knee, unable to reach any further. He handed the remaining roll to Clara to continue.

“The plateau has now been sealed,” Tim dictated, “we shall now engage the laser ignition thrusters and this entire-”

“Did you say laser ignition thrusters?” Clara said, watching the last edges of the bandage disappear on her upper thigh, recognising that as the machine she, Kodey and Francis had repaired in the reactor with the marble from the watch.

“That is correct Clara, they were activated as part of the evacuation procedure. The thrusters will be engaged and the plateau will move a safe distance to the rescue point.”

“So it’s a lifeboat?” Clara smiled, realising what was happening. “A really really… really big lifeboat?”

“If nautical terminology is what you are familiar with,” Tim replied, threading his fingers, “then yes. May I suggest you stay seated and adopt the brace position?”

“Emergency evacuation in ten seconds,” the shopping centre announced above. “Please remain seated.”

“What’s about to happen?” Portia asked Brock, instinctively sliding across the grey marble floor in his direction.

“Nine, eight, seven…” the announcer continued.

“I don’t know, mum,” Brock answered, pulling her towards him, hugging her shoulder tightly with his left arm.

“Six, five, four…”

Panicked screams and shouts rang through the air as the countdown continued.

“Three… Two…”

Clara put her head down onto her knees, covering it by folding her arms above.

“One.”

Clara collapsed to the ground as the entire structure shook violently, moving to place her back to the edge of the statue plinth to try and gain some cover. 

The long loud low pitched sound of a thousand pieces of paper being ripped at once engulfed the space.

Clara covered her ears with her hands, unable to prevent herself letting out a panicked gasp as the noise and vibrations continued. Brock pulled Portia towards him, they both hugged each other tightly.

A small crack appeared in the grey marble tile between Clara’s boots, extending away from her, back towards the barrier she had driven over. The statue above began to wobble unsettlingly as the frequency of the shuddering resonated throughout the material. Clara felt all of her weight glued to the ground.

“When’s it going to stop?” Portia shouted, a look of terror possessing her features.

“Soon mum,” Brock answered desperately, trying to reassure her by squeezing her body tight, “soon.” He closed his eyes and protected his mum’s head.

The shaking began to ease off slightly, the noise continuing apace. Clara looked up, able to gauge that she was moving by the changing positions of the twinkling stars. The pointing arm of the white marble statue above was swaying wildly, so much it snapped off completely, crashing to the floor two feet to Clara’s right, shattering in a cloud of chalky dust.

The ripping and tearing noise reduced in volume considerably, replaced by a whooping siren. A few people around her began getting up from their feet, the inertia having subsided.

Brock remained still for a minute until he cautiously opened his right eye, releasing his grip around Portia’s shoulders. He began to stand up carefully.

“Has it finished?” Portia asked, holding her hand out for Brock to help her up.

“I think so,” Brock replied, “we should probably get back to the others, come on mum,” he strained, pulling Portia to her feet.

Clara watched him look at her, his features debating whether to leave.

Portia began to stroll off unsteadily, clinging onto the upper surface of the statue plinth with her left hand.

“Go on,” Clara waved him away.

“Are you sure?” Brock asked, looking between her and Portia.

Clara nodded. “I’m waiting for my friend to find me and then I am getting the hell out of here.”

“Just make your first stop a hospital,” Brock smiled at her. “Well, I hope you feel better.”

“I will be just fine, do not worry about me,” Clara answered, “go! Go!”

Brock nodded once and then went to join Portia, twenty metres from the statue.

Clara leant back against the side of the plinth, pushing her head backwards, trying to raise the energy to move her body, hoping the painkillers would kick in to dull the painful throbbing on her left side. She tried to block out the whooping siren, concentrating on surveying her surroundings.

A ceiling support tree rocked unsettlingly as the violent vibrations stopped. It remained upright, not faltering under the enormous amount of pressure it was clearly under.

Clara gingerly used the plinth of the statue to get herself to her feet, inspecting the damage to her left leg. Her black tights and a portion of her green dress were completely worn away, revealing shredded red skin, a trickle of blood smeared on the floor where she had crashed. Her torn leather jacket had absorbed most of the friction to her upper body, scuffed white towards her elbow and shoulder. Her left boot was damaged beyond repair. She groaned as she twisted her left leg, realising everything she was wearing was now effectively consigned to being thrown away.

“I really need to stop wearing my best things,” she said resignedly, holding out her hands.

The alarm continued ringing, patches of dust fell from above, highlighted in the bright lights. The floor shuddered slightly in the way that felt like a train was passing below.

Clara debated how she was going to find Ashildr, surveying the large crowd. There were people everywhere. Most were sat on the floor, discussing the day’s events with those nearby, others were pacing around the edge of the space, one hundred metres to her right. Shop fronts lined the edge of the plateau. A vague chatter permeated the air between the bursts of the siren alarm, but the atmosphere remained remarkably calm given the circumstances.

A passing man in a dusty navy trench coat gazed down at the injured side of Clara’s body and winced, inhaling loudly. “Ouch.”

“Yeah,” Clara smiled weakly, making eye contact, “tell me about it.”

“Wow,” the man laughed once before melting away into the crowd as Clara nodded.

She hopped a few steps around the edge of the square white plinth to test her leg, looking up towards the now broken arm of the diminutive statue and down to the shattered chalky remains on the ground below.

The alarm subsided and a loud collective cheer echoed around the space, quickly turning into a low grumble of idle chatter a few seconds later.

Clara managed to rest her weight on her leg, the painkillers finally kicking in. She walked a pace slowly out into the crowd, stopping when she noticed a single blinding white illumination coming from the black sky above, a searchlight scanning the crowd. She held her right forearm above to protect her eyes, noticing almost all of the others nearby doing the same, a silence permeating the space as the light disappeared to her left, over the crowd. A sizeable spaceship was attached to the rear side of the spotlight, it floated high above the glass, travelling to the far side of the plateau before it too became invisible due to the distance.

‘Evacuation procedures have been completed,’ an announcement boomed loudly above, ‘please remain where you are for processing.’

“Processing?” Clara reacted to herself, lowering her arm. “What do they need to process?”

“What do you think?” called out a familiar female voice behind her.

“Think about what?” said Clara, arms folded as she looked around, unable to identify who was speaking to her in the dense crowd.

“Captured the likeness pretty well, didn’t they?” Ashildr said, standing on Clara’s left, dressed in black combat gear. She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Miss me?”

“Ashildr!” Clara exclaimed. “Oh my god! Come here!” She grabbed Ashildr’s shoulders and brought her in for a tight hug. “It is so good to see you.”

Ashildr laughed, returning the sentiment, almost suffocating with pressure around her ribcage, enjoying seeing Clara again.

Clara pulled away after a short time and shoved Ashildr hard in the chest, “what did I tell you about wandering off?”

“Did I? I can’t remember,” Ashildr dismissed flippantly. “Sorry.”

“Yes, umm, you did,” Clara lied without thinking, knowing it was technically her who had stormed off leaving Ashildr alone earlier and not the other way around. “Hang on, what are you talking about? It was about eighteen hours ago, surely your memory can’t be that finite?”

Ashildr smiled at her and gazed up at the statue, folding her arms. “No, it’s not.” 

“How did you find me in this crowd?” Clara asked, smiling with relief. “There’s, like, a billion people in here.”

“Not quite,” Ashildr smirked, correcting her. “Apparently, someone rode in here on a motorbike… I figured that would be the sort of flamboyant, impressive and attention seeking thing the Doctor would do.”

Clara laughed unexpectedly. “It is exactly the sort of flamboyant, impressive and attention seeking thing he would do… hang on,” Clara paused, creasing her forehead, “are you calling me attention seeking?”

“No,” Ashildr said slowly, her eyes gleaming. She moved towards the statue, placing her right palm on the top of the white plinth it was standing on, just above chest height.

“What was that you were saying?” Clara called out to her, hands in her jacket pockets, “just now… before?”

Ashildr smirked and raised an eyebrow, feeling playful. “I said,” she said loudly back, not facing Clara, “they did a good job on the likeness, don’t you think?”

“I don’t understand,” Clara creased her eyebrows, taking a few small steps forward, “what likeness?”

“Ego sum eximius,” Ashildr read out, tracing her finger below the chiselled words on the side white plinth. “Can’t quite be sure, but it might be the Latin for-”

“I am excellent,” Clara interrupted. “Yes, I know, this guy Charles is all over this place with his statues, posters, naming things after himself… I meant to tell you,” Clara continued, “did you know he actually demanded that every single room had a picture of him in it? Not even sure Beyoncé would even make a request like that… and that is saying something.”

“Who’s Beyoncé?” Ashildr asked, curious, “one of the children you teach at school?”

“No, she’s a singer,” laughed Clara out loud, “although,” she said slowly, putting her right index knuckle to her lip, “now you mention it, I think there is a Beyoncé in 8M…”

“Oh,” said Ashildr, still confused, “right.”

“Anyway, you were saying,” Clara folded her arms, nodding at the figure above, “about the statue?”

“Ego sum eximius,” Ashildr repeated.

“Alright,” Clara said shortly, “so you’ve learnt a way to say how good you are in another language.”

“I am superb,” Ashildr grinned.

“Yes,” Clara said, beginning to get annoyed, “I get it. You’re superb at everything, whatever you’re trying to tell me, get on with it.”

“No,” Ashildr lilted her head, “I mean, yes, I am superb at everything, but no,” she pointed at the chiselled lettering, “that’s what it means. I… am… superb.”

“OK,” Clara said, not wishing to be outdone, folding her arms, “I’d still say the last word is ‘excellent’ but go on.”

“What do you think of the name?”

“The name?” Clara creased her eyebrows, reading the inscription carved into the side. “Charles Dalstram II? I’ve no firm feelings either way. It’s a name. Better than mine. I don’t know?” Clara was incredibly tired and not wanting to play games.

“Did you really not notice?” Ashildr said sideways. “How… disappointing.”

“No,” Clara snapped, unimpressed.

“It took me at least one afternoon to get it right, you know,” Ashildr said blankly, “I thought as the world’s best English teacher you’d recognise an anagram when you saw one. The two was certainly inspired with the ‘I’s wasn’t-”

“An anagram?” Clara said, creasing her forehead, “why would his name be an anagram?” She moved closer to inspect the lettering, “Charles Dalstram II,” she said, looking back to Ashildr, “I have no idea.” She retrieved the crushed dilapidated sunglasses and held them up to her face, remembering the left lens had fallen out completely. “I’ve had a very long day, not really in the mood for cryptic crossword puzzles.”

Ashildr folded her arms, turned around and began slowly pacing away, trying to stifle a laugh as she looked around.

“What?” said Clara, annoyed that Ashildr was laughing at her, scanning the name to find out the hidden meaning. The sunglasses chirruped briefly and a message appeared on the cracked right lens. Clara groaned to herself as she read. “Of course,” she said under her breath, immediately realising why all those pictures of Charles had been awfully familiar.

Ashildr watched Clara’s face contort into a narrow stare that quickly became fixated on her, bracing herself for a vitriolic outburst. 

“’Clara, it’s me Ashildr’?” Clara shouted loudly. “What the hell?!”


	74. Chapter 74

“Explain,” Clara snapped, “right now!”

“What do you want to know?” said Ashildr, a grin creeping over her features. She remained still, her arms folded loosely.

“Oh,” Clara nodded derisively, “oh, let me think,” she said sarcastically. She aimed a glare at Ashildr. “Why-” she started, “how… what have you… why…”

“OK, OK,” Ashildr held her hands up in defeat.

“Start talking.”

“Well,” Ashildr smirked, “I don’t really remember all of the finer details right now-”

“Why not?” Clara interrupted.

“Well,” Ashildr paused, looking away so she didn’t see Clara’s reaction, “it has been over three hundred years, I forget exactly-”

“Three hundred years?!” Clara repeated back incredulous, pulling on Ashildr’s right sleeve with her left hand. “No…”

“There or thereabouts, give or take a few decades, yes,” Ashildr replied, turning to face her, moving Clara’s hand away. “I forget the exact amount.”

“Three… hundred years,” Clara said at an increased volume, hands loosely on her hips. “The last time… you saw me… was three… hundred… years ago?” She could feel a tear welling up in the corner of her left eye.

“It seems people who travel with you have a curious habit of waiting around for you, don’t they?” Ashildr mused. “Not quite four and a half billion years though… I’m not sure we’re,” she raised an eyebrow, “quite on that level-”

“Don’t you even…” Clara started before consciously stopping herself, “dare.”

“- yet.” Ashildr raised an eyebrow.

“What the hell have you been doing for three hundred years?” Clara snapped back, trying to ignore Ashildr’s reference to the Doctor.

“Building this place,” Ashildr looked around, “apparently. Also, I think, something to do with watches. You really will have to check my journals.”

“All the statues?” Clara pointed at the white marble figure behind her. “They’re of you?”

“Yes,” Ashildr replied.

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

“You designed this place?” Clara pointed upwards.

“If you want,” Ashildr answered curtly. “I put the blueprints the AGA had of the building in the pocket of that ridiculous outfit I was wearing before I let myself out of the glass tube.”

“Wait,” Clara said, trying to figure out a timeline in her head, “wait… hang on…”

“I woke up in the car park a couple of hours ago, the TARDIS wouldn’t let me in initially-”

“A,” Clara interrupted, clearing her throat, “ridiculous outfit? That’s one of my best ensembles!” Clara interrupted, eyes narrow.

“- Holo-Clara said it had to protect you,” Ashildr continued, knowing Clara would just talk over her regardless, “and that you were trapped in a,” she tilted her head, “umm… I can’t really remember what she said, she talks so much I just switch off sometimes-”

“My hologram talks too much?” Clara held her arms out, “of course,” she nodded sarcastically.

“- but it was bad, regardless, so I had to build this place to save you-” Ashildr continued in a blasé tone.

“To save me?” Clara laughed loudly, holding her hip with her right hand, holding her left towards the ceiling. “You cannot save someone with a shopping centre!” she said in a harsh whisper. Her body was flooded with anger. “You did not… save me!”

Ashildr sighed loudly, playfully annoyed, smiling slightly, enjoying Clara not being entirely comfortable.

Clara narrowed her eyes at Ashildr, placing her left hand behind her neck to stretch it out. “Three hundred years?” she asked after a minute.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Ashildr said dismissively, waving her hand. “I quite enjoyed it. Oh yes, I remember what Holo-Clara said was wrong.”

“What was it?” Clara folded her arms impatiently.

“A time causality loop,” Ashildr said with an air of pride.

“A time causality loop?” Clara cleared her throat. “I have never heard anything so ridiculous in my life,” she fumed.

“If you say so,” Ashildr replied, “you’re clearly the expert.”

Clara fell silent, not wanting to get involved in a full-on argument as this what had caused her to storm off earlier in the day.

Ashildr went to say something, thinking better of it.

“So… you really demanded a picture of yourself in every room?” Clara deadpanned after a minute.

“I thought you’d figure out the joke sooner-” Ashildr answered smiling, “it felt like the sort of thing you would do.”

“Clara! Clara!” a male voice shouted through the crowd to her right, distracting her just as she was about to let her frustration out on Ashildr.

“Who’s that?” asked Ashildr under her breath, wanting to dispense with the pleasantries and return to the TARDIS.

Clara searched the crowd. “Oh, that’s Kodey,” she said identifying him making his way towards her, his left hand clasping that of a tall dark haired woman in dirty grey clothing covered in cuts and bruises. He carried a small child wearing a white dress against the right side of his chest.

“Kodey!” Clara said loudly, limping slightly in his direction.

“I’ve found you,” Kodey said, relieved.

“What happened?” Clara asked.

“Francis and I got to the nearest transmission area to the plateau,” he said, dropping the small child to the floor in the direction of the tall woman, “we left it as long as possible but couldn’t see you. Where did you end up? And my god, what happened to your leg? Are you OK?”

“The thing put me over a hundred miles,” she paused trying to figure out which direction she had come in, pointing to her left, “that way. I stole a motorbike, see exhibit A behind me,” she aimed her thumb at the bike, strewn casually on the floor, “rode up the barrier to get in and then had a bit of an accident.”

“Wow,” Kodey nodded, impressed. “Like an action hero?”

“Yeah,” Clara said, allowing herself a smug sideways glance to Ashildr.

“You certainly dressed for it,” Kodey observed. He leant down to talk to the child at his feet. “Luna, this is Captain Clara, she’s a superhero,” he pointed at Clara. “She saved daddy and all the people in here.”

Luna looked briefly at Clara and then smiled back at Kodey. She ran into the tall woman’s legs and held up her arms, wanting attention. The woman picked the child up to comfort her.

“It’s just… the Captain,” Clara corrected. “And I am not a superhero.”

“You are to me,” Kodey replied instantly, standing up. “You cured these two,” he looked at his wife longingly, rubbing the top of Luna’s dark hair. “This is Hadija, the love of my life,” Kodey gazed at her.

“Hello,” Clara said awkwardly, waving once at the woman.

“Thank you,” Hadija said quietly, clearly in an advanced state of shock. Her face was pale, marked with black and red scratches. Her long grey cardigan was torn, some of the excess fabric flapping as she moved, cradling Luna in her arms.

“Is that really what you’re calling yourself now?” Ashildr sniggered.

“You,” Clara said pointedly to Ashildr, “please shut up. We will discuss that later.”

“Thank you so so much,” said Kodey, hugging Clara tightly. “You got me my daughter and wife back and I am forever in your debt.” He pulled away, holding her shoulders, “if you ever need anything… anything from me, you only have to ask.”

“Understood,” Clara smiled widely, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“And thank you, Me,” he said, offering out his hand to Ashildr. “A pleasure to meet you in person.”

“And you,” Ashildr engaged in the handshake, “umm….” She looked longingly at Clara for help.

“Kodey,” Clara said quietly behind her right hand.

“Kodey,” Ashildr exclaimed falsely, “enchanted to meet you Kodey, good luck doing whatever it is you do.”

Clara glanced at Ashildr sideways briefly.

Kodey walked away a few paces and then paused. “I forgot,” Kodey said, pacing back to Clara, “I was supposed to remind you to go to a beach on your next stop, wasn’t I?”

“A beach?” Ashildr asked, turning to Clara, confused.

“Oh yeah,” Clara grinned, “for a holiday.”

“A holiday?” Ashildr smirked, “that does sound like an excellent idea, where are you taking me?”

“I’m not taking you anywhere,” Clara said, pointing at Ashildr, “don’t go getting any ideas.”

Ashildr held her hands up in mock surrender, smiling widely.

Kodey went back to his wife and daughter, waving back at Clara and Ashildr. He spotted Francis as he begun moving through the throng of nearby people, shaking his hand.

“So then,” Francis said, approaching the women after he had embraced Kodey in a bear hug. “When are we hitting the turps?”

“Turps?” Ashildr asked, confused. “As in turpentine? I don’t understand…” she creased her eyebrows. “Clara,” she tugged on Clara’s left sleeve, turning away slightly, “why is he asking if we are going to hit a liquid?”

Clara laughed to herself at Ashildr’s discomfort. “I’m pretty sure he does not mean that,” she retrained her gaze on Francis, “or do you?”

“So then, what’s your poison?” Francis asked smiling at them. He gave Ashildr a long, puzzled look.

“Ohh…” said Clara, laughing, realising what Francis was referring to. “I’d be happy with wine-”

“I find cyanide usually does the trick,” Ashildr interrupted, “or I’ve used arsenic-”

“Really?” Clara interrupted, shaking her head tightly. “He means drinks. He’s asking when we are going for drinks and what we are having. He is not asking your preferred method to poison people.”

“Oh,” said Ashildr, “that is a shame,” her eyes twinkled. “I feel like I would be able to add a lot to that conversation.”

Clara looked at her for a moment. “You scare me sometimes,” she muttered before rolling her eyes.

Ashildr grinned widely back at her.

“So then ladies,” Francis addressed them, flashing a wide smile, his peroxide white teeth sparkling, “where are you taking me? Not every day you meet two women with a time machine.” He folded his arms and raised an eyebrow.

“For god’s sake, not you as well,” Clara groaned, noting identical terminology to Ashildr, “I am not taking anyone anywhere… what do you think I am? Some sort of- sort of… intergalactic taxi driver?” Clara was about to give an elaborate non-committal reply when she noticed a small sphere had appeared in the middle of the three of them, hovering as if by magic. It was the size of a bowling ball and glowed a translucent red and blue colour inside a shimmering metal outer case.

“What is this?” Ashildr asked, holding her left palm in its direction.

Clara looked around see hundreds of similar machines whizzing around the plateau, aiming themselves at small groups of people.

“You don’t know?” Francis said, shifting right to look around the sphere at Ashildr, giving her a perplexed narrow look. “Have we met before?” he pondered, gazing at her.

“I don’t think so,” Ashildr replied, distracted, as she hovered her hand over its surface for a few seconds, debating whether to touch the casing, deciding against it. She retrieved her arms and folded them.

“It’s a MemBot,” Francis said, putting his hands in his pockets.

Clara inspected the metal object, hovering four feet away from her face. It opened slightly along its equator, displaying a white light that made her retreat and squint briefly.

“Hello,” the sphere said in a low, slow pitched tone, “there is no need to be alarmed.”

“A floating sinister looking metal sphere?” Clara whispered under her breath, adding sarcastically, “why would we be alarmed?”

“Please look towards the blue dot and state your name,” the MemBot continued, “and your memories will be assimilated.”

Clara stared at a small blue torchlight that had appeared on the upper hemisphere of silver surface. She darted her eyes nervously left and right before saying quietly, “Clara Oswald.” She felt a small tingle in her right eye, as if a tear was beginning to form. She put her right index finger up to her face to find it without moisture.

“Thank you.” The blue light darted away to Clara’s right, hovering in front of Ashildr.

“Me,” said Ashildr confidently.

“Thank you,” the sphere replied.

“Francis Grenello,” Francis said after a slight roll of his eyes, folding his arms in front.

“Thank you,” the MemBot announced.

“Hang on,” Ashildr said out loud, her eyebrows creased.

“What’s it doing?” Clara asked, watching as the sphere closed around its hemisphere.

“It collects your short term memories,” Francis replied, “they use that with the cameras to work out who is responsible. There was a plane crash on Amatraxos a few months back and-”

“Francis Grenello,” the sphere announced, interrupting him.

“That’s you?” Ashildr asked, unable to place something.

“Yes, that is me,” Francis held Clara’s gaze for a few seconds longer before sighing to himself.

“You have been identified as a person of significance,” the sphere continued, “please follow this MemBot to the command centre.”

“You are Francis Grenello?” Ashildr asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” Clara answered, “turns out he is quite the celebrity,” saying snidely, “if you can comprehend that you are not the only person in the world.”

“The… Francis Grenello?” Ashildr’s eyes grew wide. “As in… the marble?”

“Yes,” he grinned, taking in Ashildr’s features. “The one and only.”

“I feel like we have met before-” Ashildr started.

“I do know you!” Francis exclaimed, the expression spreading over his face, pointed in Ashildr’s direction.

“Is it from all the statues?” Clara offered an explanation, waving her hand around. “Turns out she’s the architect, the man that built this place and there is a picture of her in every room. Maybe it’s that? She has certainly got around…”

“You’re Charles Dalstram?” Francis said, confused.

“The second, don’t forget that or the anagram won’t work,” Ashildr nodded.

“No… it’s not that,” Francis pondered, “it was you! You were in the shop!”

“What shop?” Clara asked.

“The watch shop!” Francis said, holding his right hand on his hip, pointing with an open hand to Ashildr.

“What watch shop?” Ashildr said, confused.

“She was the woman in the shop!” Francis said to Clara.

“The woman in the watch shop?” Clara inferred.

“Yes!” exclaimed Francis, “the woman in the watch shop! You know,” he clicked his fingers, “the one that told me I had to keep the watch with me.”

“Ohh,” said Clara, “that woman in the shop!” She turned to Ashildr, “why would you be the woman in the watch shop?”

“I don’t know,” Ashildr asked, looking away, “I remember something about watches, but my mind forgets.”

“Is every single person who we don’t know… you?” Clara observed with raised eyebrows. “You are dangerous with a time machine.”

“I prefer…” Ashildr paused, a slight glint in her eye, “unpredictable.”

“What were you doing in the shop?” Francis asked.

“I’ll check my journals and let you know,” Ashildr replied blankly, “I’m sure it was something exciting.”

“Please follow the MemBot to the command centre,” the sphere announced loudly, deliberately swooshing and floating between Francis and Ashildr.

Francis sighed loudly. “Well,” he paused, forcing another smile, “I guess this is it then?”

“I guess so,” Ashildr said so sarcastically that Clara had to dig her harshly in the ribs with her left elbow.

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” Francis smiled, offering his right hand in Clara’s direction.

“Come here,” Clara said, pulling him in for a polite hug.

“You are the most awesome couple I’ve ever met,” Francis said out loud.

“Again, not a couple,” Clara said awkwardly.

“The way you two argue, you may as well be married,” he said as he pulled away. “Goodbye Clara.”

Clara tilted her head and saluted vaguely with her right hand.

Francis turned to Ashildr. “And,” he paused, “thank you Sheila. Hope you two have fun.” He flashed his peroxide white teeth, nodding his head slightly before turning doing up the buttons of his shredded, dirty green jacket, turning around and walking away.

“Why did he just call me Sheila?” Ashildr asked, pointing at Francis’ back as he disappeared into the crowd, flanked by the two floating silver spheres.

“Oh that?” Clara said, her eyes sparkling, a wide grin covering her features, “it’s a personal thing. I think that’s what they call women where he comes from.” She purposefully changed the subject, “shouldn’t we be getting back?”

Ashildr paused, maintaining eye contact, waiting a moment before stalking off past Clara in the direction of a line of shops behind them.

Clara smiled cheekily, watching Ashildr with her eyes and then following her with a heavy limp. She saw the TARDIS appearing in the distance, but was then suddenly aware that her progress was being impeded by pressure around her legs. She looked down to see Sky hugging her lower body tightly.

“Well hello,” Clara said softly, deciding whether it would be advisable for her to crouch down with the extensive damage to her left leg. She stooped, grimacing to acknowledge her.

“Who is this small child?” asked Ashildr.

“I’m the nalligator!” Sky said laughing.

“Yes you are,” grinned Clara. “This is Sky, Me.”

“I am Sky, not Sky Me, silly,” Sky giggled.

Ashildr moved away impatiently, annoyed. “Call me when you’ve finished.”

“I’m glad you managed to get here in time,” Trudi said, pulling Sky away from Clara’s injured leg.

“Trudi!” Clara exclaimed, noticing Leon stood next to her.

“You made it!” Leon said, one second before embracing her in a suffocating bear hug.

“Yes,” Clara choked out, “yes I did.”

“We knew if we waited outside your restaurant we’d find you!” Leon boomed.

“I did not expect anyone to ever ride a motorbike in here,” Trudi said, impressed, “looks like you’ll have the scar to remember it by.”

Leon let Clara go and she regained her breath. “I’ll live.”

“We saved everyone!” Leon exclaimed loudly. “We actually did it!”

“Yes, we did,” Clara nodded. “Go team!”

Trudi held onto Sky’s hand, looking down at her. “We should go and find your parents, shouldn’t we?”

“You found them?” Clara said, relieved.

“We know they’re in here, not actually… found them yet,” Trudi explained, looking around, “but we will.”

Leon looked towards her. “She’s safe with us. We’ll look after her. What a day!”

“I am glad,” Clara sighed with relief. “And yes.”

“Is that her?” Leon asked, pointing towards Ashildr, twenty feet away, inspecting a nearby shop window.

“Yeah,” Clara smiled to herself, “she’s not very friendly. Not very good at the goodbyes apparently.”

“Oh,” Leon laughed, “I see.”

“Take care,” said Trudi, extending her right hand in Clara’s direction, trying to hold on to Sky walking away into the crowd.

“I shall,” Clara gave her a mild hug. “You too.”

“Thank you,” Leon said, smiling with kind eyes. “I can’t wait to see what the guys at base station say about today.” He grabbed Clara again, almost squeezing the life out of her.

“OK, OK,” Clara exclaimed playfully, pushing him off her, “go on! Go!”

Leon stood away, folding his arms, smiling.

“Bye Claaaaara!” Sky said after a nudge from Trudi, completely disinterested, trying to walk away.

“Goodbye Sky,” Clara waved at Sky’s back.

Trudi, Leon and Clara exchanged parting looks before the group departed, whisked quickly away in a throng of people moving people.

Clara watched them disappear before turning around to walk slowly back to Ashildr.

“Is there anyone else you need to embrace awkwardly before we leave?” Ashildr remarked blankly as Clara approached her.

“No,” Clara mirrored her tone, tilting her head, pausing, “I think that’s it.”

“I’m glad,” Ashildr deadpanned. “Now maybe we might be able to leave.”


	75. Chapter 75

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it!
> 
> The FINAL chapter of this beast of an episode.

Clara and Ashildr reached the TARDIS, effortlessly disguised in its form as an American diner nestled in between two other restaurants.

“So,” Clara said confused as they reached the ‘Drinks And Gas’ sign, “how did the code for the operations centre end up on the back of that skin graft on your hand? That’s the one thing I can’t get my head around.” Clara opened the door with her key.

“Oh that,” Ashildr smirked, being overly blasé, “it was nothing.” She went in and sat ungracefully on the seat of the nearest red leather booth facing the door.

“Sorry?” Clara asked, dropping her keys onto the diner counter top, shaking off her jacket and putting it on the white wooden coat rack on the left of the bar.

“I gave my AGA security patch to the me that was let out of the airlock,” Ashildr mused, “so that I could have it ready to be lasered on when past me first turned up. I made the code for the operations centre the number on the back.”

Clara paused for a moment, thinking. “Wow, OK,” she said, trying to figure out the mechanics of how that could happen, “that is smart… and how did you know to do that?” She paced slowly up and down the black and white chequered floor.

“Past me had already been there and seen what happened,” Ashildr grinned, enjoying the fact Clara was apparently struggling to grasp what she was saying. “And then I realised the guard was me-”

“Right,” said Clara slowly, holding up her hand to stop Ashildr. She put the thumb and forefinger of her right hand on the bridge of her nose. “You know, this whole time travel thing…” Clara paused, turning to face her, “it is really dangerous having two of the same people just wandering around the same place, you know?”

“Is it?” Ashildr asked, “oh, OK then, I’ll remember that the next time and just leave eight hundred million people to die because it’s against your rules then shall I?”

“I didn’t say that,” Clara retorted back, “I just said-”

“You kind of did,” Ashildr smirked.

“I just said,” Clara repeated slower, “it’s dangerous,” she softened her tone, “it’s just you… we- we have to be careful.”

Ashildr went to say something but stopped herself, folding her arms defiantly.

Clara’s eyes rested on a large white cargo box, four feet on each edge, sat on the floor to the left of the coat rack that hadn’t been there when they had left yesterday. “Err,” she pointed briefly before moving in its direction, “what’s that?”

“Oh,” Ashildr said, unzipping her black combat bullet-proof vest as she repositioned herself on the seat to lean against the wall and put her feet up, “that’s all the clothes you bought with the money you… we… acquired.”

“You’re joking!” Clara almost squealed, lifting up the top to see it full to the brim with items. Her eyes widened as she fished through the box. “You know, we should probably give it back as the money was sort of stolen.” She gazed at a dark blue trench coat, sealed in a clear plastic cellophane before eventually replacing the lid.

“Was it?” Ashildr mused, “it wasn’t actually stolen. We didn’t steal it.”

“But we don’t know where it came from,” Clara replied, trailing her index finger along the front top edge of the box. “This is going to be difficult,” she said under her breath.

“The money,” Ashildr said, smiling to herself, “it’s mine.”

“It’s yours?” Clara said, pausing to look, “how is it yours?” She thought for a moment, reading Ashildr’s expression, suddenly getting a sinking feeling, “oh no… what did you do?”

“I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you mean,” Ashildr’s eyes twinkled, “turns out designing and building the galaxy’s largest shopping centre is surprisingly lucrative,” Ashildr sniggered, “it’s a wonder I haven’t done it previously, but it also means I am technically one of the richest people to ever live.”

Clara massaged her head, trying to process the new information.

“Or… at least I am for the next couple of years,” Ashildr said blankly, “when the whole place actually does blow up.”

“What?” Clara said weakly, unsure if she wanted to know any more.

“Apparently,” Ashildr continued sheepishly, “putting a surf and snow simulator over a nuclear reactor wasn’t one of my better ideas… after you blew out that door and weakened the structure, it flooded, went into meltdown and turned into that burning sun we saw earlier.”

“So that was nothing to do with the day we went there?” Clara asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, no, it appears not… I mean, technically, yes, you did cause it,” Ashildr emphasised the word ‘you’, “but just not on that day… that guidebook must be broken or something.”

“Ashildr…” Clara chided as she started pacing slowly over.

“What?” Ashildr laughed. “Nobody dies, they all get out… if this is about the clothes, send them back if you want.” She waved towards the box, “I’m sure you can continue looking like,” she pointed at Clara, noting her bedraggled appearance, “whatever this is.”

“… I cannot believe you could be so- so- so-” Clara stopped herself, a large grin surfacing, “oh, what the hell… I’ve just cured and saved everyone-”

“Not quite everyone,” Ashildr added in a blasé tone. “A few people have died.”

“OK,” Clara rephrased, “most of the people in that place… I am keeping the clothes.”

Ashildr nodded, “there was never any doubt was there?”

“Probably not,” Clara smiled, sitting opposite Ashildr in the booth, grimacing slightly at the pain in her back, right shoulder and left thigh.

“I also got a few other articles,” Ashildr indicated with her head behind her, “you said we needed chairs and I got a very good deal on some late twentieth century teaching whiteboards.”

“Why would you get them?” Clara asked, creasing her eyebrows.

“Thought you might want them for all your,” Ashildr’s eyes sparkled, “rules.”

Clara rolled her eyes, folding her arms.

Ashildr laughed a little until a silence permeated.

“You know, as much as I hate to admit it, we,” Clara pointed to Ashildr and then back to herself, “did make a very good team today.”

“Really?” Ashildr said, a little taken aback, “I’m flattered.”

“You should be,” Clara laughed gently. “I do not give out praise often, so don’t get used to it.”

They sat in silence for a minute.

“Is it always like this?” Ashildr asked her.

“Yeah,” Clara nodded, looking at her fingernails on the grey table top. She gazed up and smiled with wide eyes. “I still cannot believe you got zombies in a shopping centre on your first proper go. I must admit to being a tiny,” Clara indicated a small space with the thumb and index finger of her right hand, “tiny bit jealous.”

Ashildr looked at Clara’s fingers, watching them begin to glow the yellow and orange hue it had done the last time her body had repaired itself.

“Yes!” Clara sighed, rotating her right palm in front of her face, watching as the glow subsided, “thank god for that, my back is killing me-”

“Old age?” Ashildr volunteered with a wry smile as she was talking.

“-after,” Clara rolled her eyes, clearing her throat, “no… after the ceiling collapsed on me, I was thrown backwards into a bookcase and I crashed that bike,” she grinned, “actually, the bike… that was quite impressive, I’d take a scar for that injury. Look at me power sliding on a motorbike, oh yeah!” She looked down at her left thigh, the skin now repaired, visible through the torn remains of her dress and tights. “Shame really.”

“Dear god,” Ashildr said, suddenly. “Your face…” she pointed at Clara.

“Yeah, I also burnt my face,” Clara nodded, touching her left cheek. “Shouldn’t have left any permanent damage, has it gone?”

“No...” Ashildr said, swallowing, “your face… it’s different.”

“Oh, no, no, no… come on!” Clara’s features dropped as she immediately grasped out for the silver napkin holder to her right, pulling it over to look at her reflection. Her face was the same and, realising she’d been had, she moved the napkin holder slowly out of the way to see Ashildr smirking back at her.

“Must you make it so easy?” Ashildr said laughing, threading her fingers together in front of her.

Clara slowly replaced the napkin holder as she aimed a continuous unblinking narrow stare directly into Ashildr’s eyes, saying nothing. She shook her head at her derisively.

“So then, Clara,” Ashildr paused, grinning, “or should I say…” she paused, letting out a small snigger, “Captain Oswald… where are we going tomorrow?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is it... for now.
> 
> I really hope you've enjoyed this as much as I've enjoyed creating it. Thank you to each an everyone of you for reading, I love your comments, so keep then coming in!
> 
> Please stay tuned for episode three, coming soon (probably in the New Year)
> 
> So... Happy Christmas and see you in January!
> 
> :-)


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